The Heir and the Spare
by mellowenglishgal
Summary: 'Another punch to the gut. Nik's face gazed back at him, young, softened by femininity. His cheekbones, his plump lips, even his hooded eyes. If the other twin was an auburn version of Hayley, then this twin was Nik, with a few deliberate mistakes.' Andrea Marshall is Hope's twin-sister: My version of Legacies, following the lives of the Marshall and Saltzman twins.
1. Prologue: Liberty

**A.N.**: So I started watching _Legacies_… I started it, and I was utterly, utterly dissatisfied. You know when parents tell you, "I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed?" So, in this story I will be taking the premise of _Legacies_ and making it my own. I thought Hope got off far too lightly - for _everything_ \- so that'll be remedied.

I feel they cast stereotypes for the show, not characters; and this is meant as no insult to the actors, but I was appalled by the characterisation, so that's down to the writers. I'll do face-claims later for the rest of the characters.

Little Andrea was inspired by McKenna Grace as Mary in _Gifted_ \- watch clips on _YouTube_, she's a stunning actress. Adolescent Andrea's looks are inspired by the model Grace Elizabeth - take a look at my _Legacies_ board on _Pinterest_; in a side-by-side comparison with Joseph Morgan, it's actually quite eerie how similar they are.

* * *

**The Heir and the Spare**

_Prologue_

_01_

_Liberty_

* * *

"What's the hold-up? We rescued Nik, we escaped mortal danger - why are we not on a private jet to Saint-Tropez?" The pretty waitress handed him a chilled mimosa, calm and compelled. He glanced at them all, gathered on the porch, helping themselves to brunch, gazing into the distance or - absurdly - reading a _newspaper_. He sighed, snatching the newspaper from Elijah's hands and folding it. "You can catch up on the last five years when we're on our way - I assure you, you haven't missed much."

Elijah popped his jaw, praying for patience. "Circumstances have changed. We will leave here soon enough."

"We have our nieces to consider," Rebekah said quietly.

Kol rolled his eyes, sipping his drink. _Happy birthday_, he thought sadly, tasting the fresh orange, just sweet enough to counteract the tangy acidity of the sparkling wine - not Champagne, but it went down smoothly. A reunion brunch…

Only, the only person he wanted to reunite with was forever out of his reach.

"Kol has a point," Freya said, and Kol raised an eyebrow at her. No-one _ever_ agreed with him, saw the wisdom in his words. It paid to be on the outside looking on, watching them make their mistakes.

Rather than incite Marcel, he wanted to get as far away from New Orleans, and as far away from his reputation, as possible. Do justice to the endless life he had been cursed with; make Davina _proud_ of how he chose to spend his eternity…_after_ a decade-long bender…

Freya rose from her rocker, sighing, as she murmured, "We need to put an ocean between us and Marcel Gerard as soon as possible."

"We're not going anywhere today." Nik was quieter than usual. Five years of isolation and torment was not nearly what he deserved after a millennium's sadistic torture of his family, but Kol would take small victories. He had never seen Nik…_cowed_. He had been all bravado in front of Marcellus, but they all knew…Marcel was right. For the first time in their interminable, intolerable lives, they were truly at the mercy of another. And of their own making.

They had acted abominably, and Kol…Kol alone shared Marcel's grief…and they didn't care. They didn't care to dwell on _why_ they had made an enemy of Marcellus; they didn't dare evaluate why Kol was hell-bent on separating from them and never setting eyes on any of them ever again.

Davina.

"I want one day of peace with my daughters before their lives are uprooted forever," Klaus muttered. It was not an outrageous request. For the first time in five years, they would be meeting their nieces. Klaus would lay eyes on his daughters for the first time since they were toddlers.

"Any delay is a risk," Freya sighed, forever the harbinger of doom. Kol sipped his mimosa, rolling his eyes. If anyone were to ask his opinion - which he noted they were _not_ \- he'd advise them all to haul arse to the far ends of the Earth and never give Marcel Gerard reason to follow.

"One day," Nik said coldly, glowering at Freya - it lacked heat, though, as if the last five years had taken the fight out of him. Kol remembered his bravado, facing down Marcel - but that was all it was. "We're in the middle of nowhere, the house is cloaked, we weren't followed - _and I'M NOT ASKING_."

Kol drifted back to the buffet spread, refreshing his glass and stealing a strawberry. They were forced; they never tasted quite as exquisite as those picked straight from the plant, in prime strawberry season. England, the Fifteenth Century…English strawberries and fresh cream. He glanced up as the screen-door burst open at the side-entrance, and a little girl in rumpled jeans slightly too big for her and a tiny t-shirt bounded onto the porch, cursing quietly under her breath as water from a small watering-can sloshed over her bare toes. She had hair the colour of wheat in the sunshine bound in two haphazard braids she had obviously plaited herself. He watched as she marched barefoot to a collection of planters, a great ginger beast lolloping around her ankles.

As the front-door opened beside Freya's abandoned rocker, Kol gave a disinterested glance over his shoulder, and saw Hayley give Klaus a warning look before smiling down reassuringly at the shy face peeking behind a sheet of auburn hair. The other twin.

"Everybody, look who's awake…" His siblings rose from their seats and gathered to gaze in wonder at the limpet-child attached to Hayley's side. Her eyes were downcast, and she twisted the hem of her dress in her hand anxiously.

Confronted with five strangers, and full-grown adults, all staring at her like she had walked on water, he couldn't blame the kid for shrinking behind her mother's legs.

He could say a lot about his family; one of the few things he could _not_ say was that any of them were _shy_.

Kol drifted off, curious what the other little girl was doing. He could hear her, chattering away happily to herself, and peeking around the corner, he watched her watering a large planter overflowing with flowers and herbs - with a few plastic dinosaurs conspicuous amongst the foliage, her very own Jurassic Park. He sipped his mimosa and watched, curious.

Seeing the little girls, his nieces, was a sucker-punch.

Inside Freya's horrific beige _chambre de chasse_, they had fooled themselves into believing time had not been passing - at least, that had been their hope; that their bland eternity inside the _chambre_ was a mere blip to Hayley as she searched… But time had not stood still.

Five years truly had passed.

And nothing demonstrated that fact more brutally than his nieces.

They were no longer toddlers, just learning to wheedle around precariously, murmuring their version of a language none of them could recognise, their delight recognisable in their developing laughter and toothless grins.

These were small, exquisite _children_.

Leaving the others to coo over and intimidate the auburn twin, Kol meandered out of the shade of the porch toward the other little girl. The great ginger beast glanced around, and Kol raised an eyebrow; the cat had one eye. His footsteps on the dusty earthen path made the little girl glance up.

Another punch to the gut.

Nik's face gazed back at him, young, softened by femininity. His cheekbones, his plump lips, even his hooded eyes. If the other twin was an auburn version of Hayley, then this twin was Nik, with a few deliberate mistakes.

"Hello," he said softly. He had never been a part of Always and Forever but he wasn't going to punish this little one for it; he was going to be…all that Davina knew he had it in himself to be.

"Mommy said we have visitors," she sighed shortly, sprinkling water over her agapanthus. There was thinly-veiled blame as she muttered, "You chased Grandma Mary away."

"I don't think _anything_ could chase Mary Dumas away," Kol said honestly, crouching down and neatening the herbs of spent leaves. "She's tough."

"Yes she is. She can fillet a fish without a clothes-pin on her nose," the little girl grinned; her front-teeth were missing. There was a large yellow _i _on her red t-shirt, she had sparkling yellow flower barrettes clipping her hair from her face, and a cat sticker under her left ear. "And she plays dominoes. What's your name?"

"My name is Kol."

"I'm Andrea Elyse Marshall," the little girl said, with confidence, offering her little hand. She had her tiny fingernails painted - sky-blue, and shimmering. She pronounced her name Ahn-drey-uh, not An-dree-ah: The same way Hayley and the others pronounced her birth-name, the shattered future this little girl was named for. Hope's naming was obvious; but Andrea was named for _possibility_. The cat purred and wound itself around her bare ankles, and Kol thought of _familiars_. "Are you my uncle?"

"I am," Kol said, smiling sadly.

"Hm. It's nice to meet you."

Kol glanced at the little hand, and reached out to shake it. Andrea Elyse Marshall's intense hazel eyes widened subtly, as they shook hands; he remembered she had witch ancestry. She was reading him through skin-to-skin contact, as so many witches did unconsciously. With a sinking feeling, he wondered what she felt.

"It's very nice to meet you, too," Kol said earnestly, with a regretful smile. "I have a question, Andrea… Where are your teeth?"

"This one I pulled out by myself, Mommy wanted to tie it to the _door_ because I kept making it dance," Andrea said, pointing at her gums; she gave a giggle. "And this one I lost because I ate a candy-apple. I got three whole _dollars_ for each one! But I can't whistle anymore."

"Bummer," Kol clucked his tongue.

"Isn't it, though?"

"Now, he is either a very large cat or a rather stunted jaguar," Kol remarked, eyeing the cat watching him, one-eyed.

"This is Sweet Pea, he's the best cat in the whole world, and I love him," Andrea sighed, reaching down to scratch Sweet Pea's ears. She cooed, "He's a dude, and a guy, and he only has - _one eye_!" She giggled, delight illuminating her little face; it was strange to see Nik's features radiant with pure joy. Andrea sighed, scratching Sweet Pea's ears; he purred loudly and rubbed against her legs.

"What happened to his eye?" Kol asked curiously, almost wanting to reach out to test his mettle with the cat. He wasn't very good with animals; they got anxious around him.

"I don't know, I wasn't there," Andrea shrugged unconcernedly. "I just found him in a trashcan next to a bottle of, like, alcohol or something." Another little shrug, as she scratched Sweet Pea's thick fur.

"And you brought him home?"

"Mommy doesn't like cats with two eyes, but Sweet Pea is _monocular_. 'Mono' means one. And he likes playing with his ping-pong ball. We watch David Attenborough together," Andrea said. "Did you know sea-turtles have pap- _papillae_ all the way down to their stomachs to protect them from jellyfish stings? They look like a horror movie." She beamed, excited.

"I did not know that," Kol said honestly, blinking. He was getting slight whiplash from the rapid change in topics. "I've never had much occasion to watch David Attenborough."

"I like his voice," Andrea said thoughtfully. "It's gentle and clever. Do you like my agapanthus?"

"I do. You like words, don't you Andrea?"

"I like learning," Andrea said, beaming. Her missing teeth made her smile slightly jarring. "We're building a zoo at school."

"You're not going to put Sweet Pea in a cage?" Kol asked, teasing.

"It's a _diorama_, we have to make one," Andrea grinned. "I'm in the First Grade… Why are you sad?" Kol blinked: So she _had_ read him.

"It's a very good friend of mine's birthday today," he said, settling on a facet of the truth that wasn't so painful it couldn't be shared.

"What's her name?"

"How do you know my friend is a girl?" Kol asked, smiling.

"Because you're sad," Andrea smiled warmly. "Mommy says that when you're in love, sometimes you're miserable."

"Well, your mum would know," Kol muttered. He sighed, and told Andrea, "Her name is Davina."

"Davina," Andrea frowned, testing the name out. "And do you love her?"

"More than anything in the world," Kol said grimly. "More even than _magic_."

Andrea gasped, her face lighting up, delighted. "We should make her a cake!"

"A cake?"

"Grandma Mary taught me, c'mon!" Andrea beamed, reaching for Kol's hand, the watering-can abandoned, monocular Sweet Pea watching Kol as if to say, _You're hers now. Enjoy_. "We need eggs. I'll introduce you to Chanticleer and Poppy and Spicer and Agatha Christie, but Queen Charlotte's lazy and never goes back to the coop to lay, but she's the best layer, and we have to hunt for the eggs and she likes the barn."

A tiny little girl was tugging him toward the outlying barn - and he, a thousand-year-old resurrected Original vampire, found himself being pulled along. He could have resisted, even teased her, or thrown her over his shoulder and carried her back to the porch to endure the cringe-worthy reunion… He didn't. He let Andrea tug him toward the barn. He could see the hencoop built beside it, partially shaded, where the chickens could roam free, clucking and scratching.

"So, you like your flowers, and your _monocular_ cat, and you like hunting for eggs," Kol said. "What else do you like?"

"Fishing, and school and drawing," Andrea said, after a thoughtful moment. "Sweet Pea, stay here. Sweet Pea loves the chickens," Andrea told Kol. "He thinks he'd like to catch one, but he'd regret it. I know. Sweet Pea's not a killer, he's a lover."

Kol chuckled to himself. "You like school?"

"Not math. I like _friends_," Andrea told him.

"Do you have lots of friends?"

Andrea stilled, quiet. Her expression became thoughtful, sad; her eyes were downcast and she pursed her lips. "I don't have any friends but Sweet Pea. There's only _Hope_."

"You must spend a lot of time together," Kol said, observing the change in Andrea as they discussed her twin.

"She doesn't like to play," Andrea said, as if this was a truth she had long ago accepted.

"That's a shame. Your mum told us that Hope likes to paint," Kol said. "Don't you colour together?"

"Mommy doesn't like us outside at noon; I learned to tell time so I know when I have to be home," she said excitedly, proudly showing Kol a colourful child's watch that was still too big for her slender little wrist. "That's when I draw."

"Do they let you draw at school?"

"Sometimes. I like school - except _Kyle_," Andrea said, and her face bunched up in a scowl. "He's a bully. I don't like bullies."

"Nor do I," Kol said, smiling to himself as he watched the innocent daughter of the most sadistic bully in history shove open the door to the barn. "How many eggs do we need?"

"Mm…maybe four?" Andrea said, pulling a thoughtful face, and they ducked into the shade - and the sweltering, close heat - of the barn. It was full of forgotten things; abandoned tractors and broken carburettors - not that he knew much about that kind of stuff. Andrea showed him Queen Charlotte's favourite spots, and they found a couple of eggs. He turned around to find her gone; she moved quietly.

He found her again, a few feet away behind the antique tractor, rigid, her lips parted in shock, her little hands wrapped around the two eggs they had found.

"Andrea, what's wrong?" he asked sharply.

There was more than broken machinery and old straw left to rot in the barn. Kol sighed heavily, closing his eyes, realising before anything else that _he _would likely get the blame for this.

The wolf Hayley had tracked - the last of the Malraux pack - was curled up, a sadistic mask clamped over her face, her wrists cut up from restraints, sweating in the close air, shivering from cold sweat and hunger and pain…he could _smell_ it on the air.

He couldn't remember her name.

Andrea didn't know her.

"Andrea…" He stepped forward, but the little girl glanced over her shoulder and gave him such a dangerous look, he froze. It was all in the eyes; and hers seemed to stop time. It was a look she could only have inherited; even if Nik had never been around to teach it to her.

After a thousand years with his sadistic half-brother, seeing his glower on an innocent little girl was uncanny - and far more effective.

Carefully, Andrea set the two eggs down on the ground at her feet. Curious, Kol watched what she would do, prepared to defend her if the werewolf attacked. But the wolf seemed as shocked as Andrea at the sight of them in the barn. Her dark eyes were drenched in pain as she fixed them on Andrea, blinking sweat out of her vision, panting softly.

Hesitantly, Andrea stepped forward. Subtly, she lifted her little nose, and Kol realised she was _scenting_ the werewolf. Andrea tilted her head to one side, thoughtfully, in a way that reminded Kol of inquisitive puppies.

Niklaus had been an Original vampire for a thousand years; in the time Kol had been lurking on the periphery of Always and Forever, he had had occasion to observe his half-brother. Not once in the years since undoing Esther's spell had Klaus ever learned how to embrace his werewolf nature - he was a narcissist, a pathological manipulator, sadistic and cruel… The antithesis of what it meant to be a wolf. Here, this tiny girl, with her features so like Nik's, already displayed more lupine characteristics than Nik ever had.

Whether or not she knew what her instincts meant - they hadn't exactly had a family meeting to discuss what Hayley had told her twin daughters, and what they were not _allowed_ to discuss in front of them - something inside Andrea was guiding her actions.

She reached out, frowning intensely, and before she tugged the mask off the werewolf's face, she first examined the straps, how it was all connected. When she undid the strap binding the mask around the werewolf's head, her delicate little fingers were methodical and gentle. And she winced, the same as the werewolf did, when she prised the mask off. _Compassion_.

The woman panted. Confronted with a little kid, she was caught off-guard, and Kol watched the awkward, reassuring smile she gave Andrea in spite of her obvious pain, and the truth of the situation - that she was being _held_, tormented.

It was not the ideal scenario, and Kol regretted that Andrea had found the werewolf. He knew he would be blamed - wasn't he always? But he silently cursed Freya; she had cloaked the wolf, hiding her from them all as they convened at this farmhouse to meet their nieces for the first time in five years.

"Hi," the werewolf said, panting softly, and giving Andrea a smile Kol could almost believe was genuine.

"You're hurt," Andrea said quietly, her eyes lingering on the werewolf's wrists, which were raw, cut up.

"Don't you worry," said the wolf, "I'll heal just fine." She flitted a glance at Kol, who watched her, not scowling but just…glaring in disappointment - with Freya.

If he'd thought about spending any time with his nieces at all - he never had, of course; the twins were exclusively Bekah's, Klaus's, Elijah's - sometimes Hayley was even allowed near them… But if he _had_ given it a second thought, _this_ was not the perfect scenario by any stretch of his imagination.

Andrea tilted her head to one side, her eyes still fixated on the woman's wrists. Hesitantly, she raised her hand, and gently touched the wolf's arm. Her eyes widened; and she inhaled sharply. Her little eyebrows knitted together, and she stepped back. The change in her body-language was remarkable: Her little shoulders tucked inward, her chin dropped to her chest, her eyes were downcast, and she started shivering.

"Andrea, you're shivering… Why don't you wait outside in the sunshine?" Kol asked gently, hoping she would, and realising instinctively that she wouldn't - because her chin jutted up again, and she reached forward, eyeing the restraints.

His lips parted as she _broke_ the restraints…the strength she had inherited from her parents, from Nik as an Original vampire on top of being a werewolf, manifested in her tiny little arms, her nimble little fingers. She broke the restraints, and the werewolf gave Kol a confused look.

"I don't think we have any Band Aids," Andrea frowned suddenly.

"That's okay. Fresh air will do me the world of good," the wolf assured her.

"They don't _smell_ good," Andrea told her, wrinkling her little nose.

"A little antiseptic and I'll be fine," the wolf told her, with a warm smile. Kol realised he was coiled, tense, ready to spring; anticipating violence.

"Andrea…go and wait outside," Kol told her gently, but with a bite of authority that she must recognise from her mother; Andrea glanced at him, reading him. Whatever she saw in his expression made her sigh softly, but duck her head - it was a subtle, submissive movement, and she stooped to pick up the eggs she had been hunting before they stumbled upon a werewolf caught in a snare.

He felt his grim expression ease as the barn-door swung open, shedding sunlight into the close, darkened hall; the tired hinges creaked, rust shavings released their scent into the air, and Kol rubbed his hands over his face, tired. He had been in a mystically-induced coma for five years, he should not be this exhausted. But he was.

"That kid is a wolf," said the werewolf, her eyes on the barn-door, which had swung closed behind Andrea. The wolf didn't rise from the floor; she wasn't _stupid_.

"That kid is a lot of things," Kol said quietly. "Freya string you up?"

"Your blonde friend? She's been stealing my venom," the wolf said, panting softly. He was coldblooded; werewolves were the opposite, and truly felt every discomfort he hadn't had to think about in centuries. Sweat trickled from her temples, and he could see her hair getting frizzier as the seconds passed.

Kol shook his head. He knew Freya was reactionary, rather than precautionary: She responded to fear with anger, resentment, cruelty and stone-cold pragmatism.

It was no wonder she had slipped so neatly into Always and Forever; whereas Kol had forever been shoved to the side-lines. Or rather, into a coffin. He was unpredictable; Klaus could not control him.

But Freya…?

Her motivations were easy to figure out; her actions were easy to anticipate.

It was boring, really.

He was too tired, too distracted by it being Davina's twenty-third birthday to give Freya much thought.

But bringing the wolf _here_? Where their nieces lived, and played, and explored?

He wasn't going to win any Babysitter of the Year Awards but Kol was wise enough to know that Freya bringing the wolf to their backyard spit in the face of everything Hayley wanted for her daughters. She had fought tooth and nail to protect her girls; to give them a life she never had - _safety_, protection. The lives they had all had stolen from them.

Their innocence. Their delight. Companions, without the cruelty.

He wondered how Hayley had ever brought herself to wake them. To invite the Originals into the lives of her tiny, innocent, fragile little girls.

Andrea had inherited Klaus's looks, yes; but she had also inherited a target on her back from the moment almost of her conception. Anyone looking to revenge themselves on Klaus now had the most exquisite target. Two vulnerable little girls.

The longer Hayley kept them asleep, the longer she kept her girls safe.

No more inciting violence, no more betrayal, ruthless cruelty, no more power struggles and viciousness, no more punishing each other…no werewolves chained up in the barn. Just the three of them. Just Hayley and her girls.

Whether she listened or not, Kol would give Hayley his two cents. Her daughters deserved that much: And then he would be gone.

Until then…

A thousand years' experience learning everything he could about all the manifest forms of magic, and Kol the Original Vampire had a few witchy tricks up his sleeves. He had not been a prodigy for nothing.

He looked at the werewolf, and sighed.

"They're cooing over Andrea's sister," he told her. "You'd better get going. Half a mile to the main road, follow it east and you'll reach the town." He pulled out his wallet, startled as Davina smiled warmly up at him…proud of him… He counted out two hundred dollars and handed it over. "Wait a moment…" Outside, he found the herbs and wildflowers growing in profusion in Andrea's planters; he picked out choice herbs, and created a woven bracelet. It was simple magic, but ancient, and effective. He ducked back into the barn, and handed the bracelet over. "Keep it on. At least until you can find a witch to do a decent cloaking spell. Or, get so far from here that it's a damned inconvenience to chase you down. I hear good things about Machu Pichu. No need to send a postcard."

The wolf stared at him, frowning. Hesitantly, she took the money, and the bracelet.

"Why are you letting me go?" she asked quietly. Kol sighed heavily, Davina's photograph in his wallet burning a hole in his back-pocket.

"Breaking the cycle," he told the wolf. "You'd best be going."

It didn't take long for Freya to realise her setup had been compromised, that someone had undone her wards and protections: The wolf was out of even Kol's hearing before Freya arrived at the barn, skinny and dogged, glaring at him. He leaned casually against the broken-down tractor, arms folded loosely over his chest, waiting, not at all concerned by her ire. After a thousand years with Nik, what was this miserable entitled brat who had inserted herself into their family?

Once, he might have resented her for her place in the inner circle: Now, she was welcome to it. He had no desire to remain shackled to Always and Forever, a fantasy - a delusion. An exhausted excuse for _brutality_. Toxic dysfunction masquerading as loyalty - and completely one-sided: It was Nik or nothing.

They had all experienced that; but it seemed only Kol had learned the lesson.

In Always and Forever, there was no room for anyone but Klaus.

Not even his own daughters.

"Where is she?" Freya demanded on a growl.

"Vanished," Kol shrugged, clicking his tongue.

"Yeah, I'm going after her," Freya announced, turning to the door; Kol blocked her way in an instant.

"No, you're not."

"Move," Freya warned. She shot her hand at Kol, hitting him with a spell that made it feel like a flaming ball of acid had hit him in the chest. "I can do much worse…" He grinned, and chuckled.

"What you forget, dear Freya - what you _all_ forget - is that you may be a 'firstborn Mikaelson witch'…but _I_ was the prodigy," Kol smirked. "All your little tricks are child's play. This little experiment…lacks imagination. You have enough to make an anti-venom; and I have more than enough sense not to incite Marcel's wrath. I council you all to follow my example."

"Marcel could be handing out vials of his venom to anyone."

"And lose his leverage over us?" Kol sneered. "Allow other witches to cultivate an anti-venom of their own? Worse - to create a monster more powerful than him?"

"We can't avoid a threat that could be everywhere."

"And this wolf is the ultimate weapon?" Kol scoffed. The twins were their chance to start afresh, to be better than they were…Freya remained dug into old habits like a tick. "She deserves kidnap and torture?"

"Now _you're_ the arbiter of right and wrong?" Freya scoffed.

"No, just of good sense," Kol snapped. "We have two little girls running about this place - their _home_ \- and you are keeping a woman chained up and in pain as an experiment. Andrea is going to have questions -"

"Then tell her that the world's a bad place, and that sometimes we have to do bad things to survive," Freya said coldly. "The girls will both be safer if they learn that early."

"It's not their job to keep themselves safe. It's _ours_. And that includes protecting their innocence - it includes protecting them, even from ourselves," Kol said, his voice rising.

"They're Mikaelsons - they can live without their innocence," Freya hissed. "They can't live without their family."

"They will live a lot longer _without_ this family," Kol bit back, disagreeing wholeheartedly. He had endured a thousand years of his _family_: Freya was a blip, the last in a long line of temporary additions to the convoluted dynamic of their hateful, dysfunctional _family_. "And their innocence is worth more than all of us together; I refuse to let you deprive them of it."

"I have a wolf to hunt."

"You are transparent, Freya, you have always been transparent," Kol sighed, shaking his head, smug and tired - tired of her, tired of her fear, her belligerence. "And lack any wisdom, through all you have endured. Frantically trying to create an antidote to an avoidable affliction; inciting new enemies to get it. This is how we lived for a thousand years: Lying on a bed of weeds, ripping them out by the root one by one before they strangled us in our sleep!"

And he hated it.

He pointed a finger upward, and saw the shock and viciousness flit across Freya's face as realisation sank in; he had trapped her. Very cleverly, too; it would take _hours_ for her to unpick the locks - even with all her firstborn Mikaelson gifts. She was the firstborn; he was the prodigy. And he had a thousand years' experience learning how to channel magic he no longer had an intimate connection to. "You won't be going anywhere for a good long while; as I said…all that power, and yet you lack any imagination."

"_Kol_!" He chuckled as he walked away, leaving Freya impotent and wrathful. He might pay for this later, Nik would likely threaten him, but setting the werewolf free…was _right_.

He was breaking the cycle.

Paranoia and brutality - he would not spend the next thousand years devoted to the very worst parts of himself. He approached the barn-door, seeing an intense hazel eye peeking between the slats. Andrea, still clutching her eggs, guarded by Sweet Pea, had waited for him, watching.

"Were you peeking?"

"Yes," Andrea said unabashedly, gazing up at Kol. "Who's she?"

"She's your Aunt Freya," Kol said, sighing heavily.

"I _don't_ like her," said Andrea, very coldly, a sombre glare on her face.

"Well, she's on a time-out," Kol said, squatting down in front of her. Andrea peeked past him.

"She's afraid," Andrea said softly, and Kol raised an eyebrow. "Can _smell_ it."

"With that dainty little nose?" Kol asked, smiling, and tenderly pressed the tip of her nose. She gave him a tiny smile. "And you're quite right, she is afraid." He sighed heavily. "What defines us is how we _respond_ to fear."

* * *

**A.N.**: I'd intended to write a prologue that was a flashback to when the twins were little, then I thought…no, I want to set up the characters' complicated dynamics when the girls are teenagers, based on what happens in New Orleans when they're little, so…

I thought the way the writers handled the Originals' reintroduction to their seven-year-old niece's life was way too perfect and saccharine - I'm sorry, but after being gone most of Hope's life, there's no way she'd instantly be calling Klaus 'dad' and snuggling up to him as if he's always been there. If soldiers can be gone six months and their own kids don't recognise them…you know?

And the way they treat her… It makes me nauseous to watch it. As an only child, the daughter of a narcissist, to me it seems unhealthy - dangerous, even - to treat Hope with so much deference; they _spoil_ her, tell her that she's a princess, that she's special. I'd worry, as her mother, that she would grow up to be entitled and self-absorbed, believing she can do no wrong and is always right…a narcissist…

I'm sure it's within Hayley's talents to acquire false documentation, so what on _earth_ has stopped her sending Hope to school to make friends and acquire essential social-skills? She's _seven_! Was Hayley home-schooling her while leading a double-life as an acquirer of rare antidotes and werewolf venom? How is Hope emotionally healthy if she has no-one but Hayley to talk to or play with? If that scenario is true, then there's no way Hope would be able to make connections to others so easily; she'd be completely dependent on Hayley. I never took Psychology at college or anything, I just can't help wonder…

So I've just finished watching _The Society_ on Netflix: To anyone who wants a recommendation for their next binge, I'd give it a go. Ten episodes, and it's very thought-provoking: I spent a lot of time thinking, If that was me, in that situation, what would I do? I've asked the site to add _The Society_ so I can hopefully upload a story later on.


	2. Prologue: Adult Supervision

**A.N.**: This chapter is dedicated to _mrs Tall Blonde and Dead_ for being the first reviewer - I couldn't reply to say thank you!

Thank you to everyone else for your patience: I've just moved into my first house, and returned to university to get my PGCE to teach, so everything's a bit up in the air at the moment. But I was determined to update something today, so, here you go!

* * *

**The Heir and the Spare**

_Prologue_

_02_

_Adult Supervision_

* * *

"C'mon…are we still making that cake?"

"Okay," Andrea mumbled, frowning thoughtfully as they trailed over to the hencoop; she set the eggs they had collected on the ground, told Sweet Pea to guard them, and went rummaging around in the coop. With five eggs, they made their way to the house; Kol just glimpsed the other little girl sat at the table and chairs in front of the house, painting.

"Are you sure you don't want to paint with Hope?" Kol asked.

"Cake!" Andrea chirped. "Cake, cake, cake! I _love_ cake!"

"Alright, then," Kol smiled. "Cake it is. Do you have a recipe?"

"In my scrapbook," Andrea nodded. "Come on, I'll show you!" Into the cool, airy house, and the downstairs bedroom Andrea shared with her twin-sister: Her little area was neat and colourful, with stacks of books full of vibrant illustrations. The little bed was made - her quilted comforter was cream with taupe stitching, and her sheets were fresh pale green; the bed was made, and a discoloured bear was propped against the pillows, much loved. On the little desk under the window where her sketchbooks and pencils lived, there were colourful cacti and succulents growing in an egg-carton, and a soda-bottle ecosystem, a wood anemone thriving above three tiny little fish, glistening like precious metals; and a DIY gumball dispenser decorated with a goofy face. There was also something hidden under a pillowcase.

"So is this your _diorama_?" Kol asked curiously, reaching for a corner of the pillowcase.

"It's not ready!" Andrea warned, swatting at his hand.

"Ready for what?"

"For _seeing_," Andrea grinned. "I'll show you when I'm done; we have to take them into school on Monday. I take the _bus_ all by myself." Andrea went to the little bookcase and tugged out the fattest volume, clutching it to her chest and giving him a toothless grin. She led him to the kitchen, the heart of their home: There were recipe-books, photographs everywhere, toys and drawings, a pile of folded laundry in a basket that smelled like wildflowers from hanging on the line outside. It was the girls' _home_, and Andrea knew the kitchen like the back of her hand. She knew where everything lived; she was happy; she felt _safe_ here.

And Freya had brought a werewolf captive to the barn.

She had brought the horror of their unending lives literally to their innocent nieces' backyard.

She had risked fracturing that peace, that _safety_ Hayley had built for her daughters.

One of them, a vibrant little chatterbox with missing teeth and a _monocular_ cat, was hammering it home that Hayley's daughters were _young_. They were _innocent_. Andrea was filled with curiosity and delight; he didn't think she would ever outgrow her breathless awe for the world around her. She was _joy_, skipping about the kitchen with Sweet Peat at her feet, bringing out mixing-bowls and ingredients - politely asking _him_ to turn on the oven because she wasn't allowed to touch the knobs. Kneeling on the island, her face was the picture of concentration as she fixed the whisks into the electric hand-mixer.

She grinned mischievously, watching him grimace as he tried the vanilla-bean paste straight from the jar - not extract - "It tastes bad. Mommy buys the good stuff 'coz she says our taste-buds are so strong. We like _organic_. That means no bad stuff. And Mommy says it's important to take the time to make things: She says we're making memories…but Hope takes _forever_ to do anything. Mommy _always_ has to tell her what to do next, but I remember."

Kol understood very quickly that Andrea was _independent_.

Caught up in an inescapable net of dysfunction and toxic co-dependence, it was a relief to see that Andrea didn't rely on Hope, that she had a life - or _wanted_ a life - outside of her sister. It was interesting to hear how Andrea spoke about her twin: With a grudging acceptance, and impatience. They were not friends.

Simply put, Andrea preferred Sweet Pea.

"So, what kind of cake are we making? A tea loaf, or a Victoria sponge, or a lemon drizzle, or a Black Forest Gateau?" Kol asked, as Andrea flicked through the protected pages of her scrapbook. He saw glimpses of the girls' lives, things they had all missed but things Hayley had documented, either for herself, or for them - he _hoped_ it was purely for her daughters. He wanted to make sure they remembered a life without the Mikaelsons in it - because he knew that their lives would be forever altered because the Mikaelsons of legend were back.

"What's a gateau?" Andrea frowned at him.

"It's a cake. A fancy cake," Kol told her. "Gateau is the French word for cake."

"Cakes grow on trees in the Black Forest?"

"Pardon?" Kol blinked.

"You said Black Forest gateau. The cake is from the forest?" Andrea said, frowning. "Forest… _Trees_… Cake grows on trees."

"No, no, it's - it's the name of the cake," Kol said, laughing softly. "It's the name of the place where the cake comes from."

"That's what I just said!"

"No - the Schwartzwald - the Black Forest - is a region in Germany," Kol chuckled. "That is where a special gateau comes from; people make it with chocolate and cherries and lashings of fresh cream, mmmm…"

"Cake should grow on trees," Andrea said thoughtfully, grinning.

"Now that is an evolutionary leap I could get behind wholeheartedly," Kol grinned. "What kind of cake, though?"

"I don't know. All kinds. Whatever's your favourite."

"What about pastries? I always adored French patisserie."

"Sure, I like pastries."

"This forest is probably where the wicked witch's gingerbread house is," Kol mused.

"Oh, _I_ know Hansel and Gretel!" Andrea grinned excitedly. "The story - not the children. That would be impossible. And I think they got the details wrong."

"Why do you say that?"

"I don't think the witch would eat the little children."

"No?

"I think she'd eat the bad parents," Andrea said, gazing at him with wide hazel eyes, and Kol raised his eyebrows. "We watch _Maleficent_ all the time; it's Sleeping Beauty but from the baddie's perspective, and actually, Maleficent wasn't evil at all, she was betrayed by the boy she liked. He used it against her, and he attacked her and stole her wings and left her hurting. She was hurting, and protecting herself. But it's not okay that she cursed someone innocent. Mommy says it's from a different _perspective_. Sometimes when people seem nasty, it's just because it's from someone else's perspective. When I tell Hope she's boring, Mommy says that's my _perspective_, but she says Hope's perspective is that I'm _boisterous_ sometimes and Hope's overwhelmed." She sighed heavily, rolling her eyes. "Hope doesn't _do_ anything but sit and colour. She doesn't like to play or go to the creek or fish or pull weeds in the garden, _and_ she pushed Sweet Pea off her bed."

"Cats always land on their feet," Kol said.

"That's what Mommy said; but it _doesn't_ make it okay," Andrea told him, giving him that stern, unyielding look she had given him when she had told him she didn't like Freya. She turned another page, and grinned. "This is the cake! See, Grandma Mary wrote the recipe, she says it's _cursive_ and one day my writing will be as pretty but I have to work at it. She writes letters, did you know? Mommy gave me a stamp-book and stationery for Christmas so I can write back. I like letters."

"As much as you like cake?"

"No; you can't eat letters, silly!" Andrea smiled.

"Alright, what do we need for this edible cake?" Her recipe was for a browned-butter praline layer-cake.

For the first time, in a thousand years of life, Kol baked a cake.

Being an 'adult', he was in charge of browning the butter on the stove, and chaperoning Andrea's use of the knife as she chopped pecans. As the two cakes rose in the oven, and they finished the washing-up, Andrea cranked the radio up, and Kol laughed, watching, reaching for the digital-camera on the windowsill above the sink, and took a photograph of Andrea, swaying and crooning into a wooden spoon to Sweet Pea.

"You're word-perfect with that song," he smiled.

"'Tennessee Whiskey' is my _favourite_ song _ever_," Andrea told him, beaming. The timer _dinged _and Andrea's eyes widened, anticipation making her face glow as he put on the oven-gloves and lifted the two round sponge-cakes out and rested them on a wire-rack. She tested the sponge with a short skewer, making sure it came out clean both times; the smell of the cake was divine.

And he got a _perfect_ photograph when they started making the frosting to sandwich the sponges together and decorate the top: Andrea turned on the hand-mixer and a cloud of powdered confectioner's sugar exploded in her face. It clung to her eyelashes, but wasn't enough to mask the look of shock on her face. And then she started laughing.

Eventually, and with much effort and a lot of cleaning up afterwards - of both the island countertop and of Andrea - they finished the vanilla buttercream frosting. By the time Andrea had put on a fresh t-shirt and washed her face, the cakes were cool enough; he chaperoned as Andrea chopped more pecans.

"You have to put frosting on both cakes before you smush 'em together, otherwise it's tough to frost the top one," Andrea advised him, as he peeled baking-parchment from the bottom of the sponges. "That's how Grandma Mary does it."

"Alright - are you going to decorate the top with pralines?" Kol asked. For his first cake-making venture, he would say it was a resounding success. Also, spending time with the niece he never imagined ever being allowed close enough to bond with. "I think we did _pretty_ well on this," Kol said, grinning, and Andrea held up her little palm. Another first; a high-five. Sweet Pea sprang up onto the island to purr beside Andrea, kneeling by their decorated cake.

"Wait! We need candles!" Andrea blurted, about to leap off the island. He had visions of foreheads cracking open on granite countertops.

"Whoa! Whoa. I'll get them; tell me where they are," Kol said, catching her before she could jump. She pointed to one of the drawers by the sink, and he found a packet of birthday-candles.

"How old is your friend?" Andrea asked, frowning, as he handed over the packet.

"Davina? She'd be twenty-three," Kol said, his smile faltering; he watched Andrea meticulously count out the candles.

"There's not enough," she said, wincing guiltily at him.

"That's alright; just the one is perfect," Kol said, and he frowned in concentration, trying to affix a small white candle into the flower-shaped bracket to spear into the frosting. "Do we have any matches?"

"Mommy hides them," Andrea said, wincing. She gazed at Kol. "You're my uncle..."

"I am…"

"Does that mean you know the secret?" she asked, in a hushed voice.

Kol grinned. "I know _lots_ of secrets, poppet."

Andrea glanced around the kitchen, at the entrances, a mischievous look glowing on her face. "Promise you won't tell? Mommy doesn't like this trick, she says we're not allowed to play with fire, but you're a grown-up…" She said it like it was an accusation: Kol wasn't certain he liked her unquestioning trust in the maturity inherent in being a 'grown-up'.

Andrea glanced around furtively one more time, fidgeted on the worktop, and levelled a look of utmost concentration on the wick of the candle. She took a deep breath, and started blowing on the wick.

A wisp of smoke appeared, unfurling like a diaphanous tail, and suddenly, the wick caught alight. A tiny flame flickered, glowing; he caught a picture of Andrea, beaming with pride at the light, leaning over the birthday-cake she had made for a dead girl.

"Practical Magic," Kol murmured, awed - and horrified.

Andrea raised her hazel eyes to his face, beaming her toothless smile. "We _love_ that movie. Mommy let us watch it when - when she told us we're witches."

"It's Davina's favourite film, too," Kol said, in agony because Andrea grinned. How was he supposed to tell her that Davina, the girl he adored, the girl she had made a birthday-cake for, was _dead_? Had Hayley even explained the concept of death? Her twins were seven; how much cause would they have to _need_ to hear that awful truth?

"You can make a wish for her!" Andrea beamed. "And then you can take the cake when you visit her."

"Oh, I - I won't be able to visit her," Kol said hesitantly. "She's - a long way away."

"Oh…"

"So, I suppose that we will have to enjoy this cake, all by ourselves," Kol said bracingly, smiling.

"I hope I get to share a slice," said a voice, and Kol glanced over his shoulder; Hayley was draped in the archway, smiling warmly.

"Hi, Mommy!" Andrea beamed, waving. "Look what we made!"

"I can _smell_ it!" Hayley grinned. "It looks beautiful."

"It's Davina's birthday," Andrea told her. "She's Uncle Kol's friend." Hayley's expression flickered, stark, just for a moment; she turned wide eyes - hazel, just like Andrea's - on Kol, who gave her a sombre look but didn't apologise.

"And you made her a cake? That's very kind," Hayley smiled warmly. "Here - let me take a picture. Kol, why don't you get in the frame too?"

"Yes! Document this! The first cake I've _ever_ made. I had a very good teacher," Kol smiled, and went to stand behind Andrea, making sure she didn't fall backwards off the island as she wriggled. Hayley picked up the digital camera, and Kol chuckled softly at Andrea, who beamed toothlessly, scratching Sweet Pea's ears as he purred, his tail flicking, scenting the cake.

"Did you follow Grandma Mary's recipe?" Hayley asked, setting the camera down and looking at the scrapbook pages, which were lightly dusted with powdered sugar - they had forgotten to wipe those down.

"It's the _best_," Andrea said, with authority.

"Somebody needs to blow out that candle," Hayley said sternly: He knew where Andrea had learned her unyielding frown, and it wasn't Klaus. "And no cake before we have lunch, okay?"

"B'okay," Andrea chirped, and Kol leaned forward, making a wish, to gently blow the candle out.

"Dreya, you've not said hello to anyone else yet," Hayley said gently.

"Eh, they had Hope," Andrea shrugged, waving a hand idly. "I need the restroom! I'll be back," she added seriously to Kol, wriggling her way off the island; he helped her down, and jumped when Sweet Pea flung himself off the island after her.

"She's vibrant," Kol remarked, when she was out of earshot, and Hayley laughed.

"Yeah, that is an _understatement_. She could adjust in a hurricane - and she has, actually. Last hurricane season, we lost power, it tore up the woods; she just sat playing cards and making up stories to keep Sweet Pea calm," Hayley chuckled softly. She sighed, her eyes on the cake. "Some of our best memories are when we had to fall back on spending time just with each other."

"The girls aren't joined to the hip," Kol remarked. "It's refreshing to see the _absence_ of toxic co-dependence between siblings."

"Yeah, well, I'm trying to raise them to be kind to one another, in spite of their differences," Hayley sighed, with mild implication, and they heard the toilet flush, water running.

"By the way, cake grows on trees in the Black Forest. I thought you should know," Kol smirked, and Hayley chuckled.

"Has she been telling you stories?"

"No, but I imagine they're full of flavour. Also, the nasty witch in _Hansel and Gretel_ ate the bad parents, not the little children abandoned in the woods," Kol said, and Hayley chuckled as Andrea reappeared, swinging her arms and grinning. Her hands were damp and smelled of jasmine soap.

"What're we having for lunch today?"

"We've got a bunch of leftovers, so we'll do a little picnic," Hayley said.

"There's fresh eggs! Can we hard-boil them? My Kol helped me hunt eggs _and_ stand up to the lions of injustice."

"_Lions_ of injustice," said a voice, and Kol rolled his eyes as Klaus appeared, smirking. "Not lines."

Andrea frowned at him, her intense little eyebrows drawn together, her hazel eyes darkening. "I _said_ lions." She flicked her eyes at Kol, frowning, and sighed.

"Klaus…this is Andrea. Drey…this is your dad," Hayley said warmly, smiling.

Andrea frowned, looking bemused. "I don't have a _dad_." She reached for the damp dishcloth and carefully wiped powdered sugar from her scrapbook pages. Hayley flitted a glance at Klaus; the smile had slipped from his face in an instant.

"Andrea…we talked about this, didn't we; I told you your dad and his family were coming to visit," Hayley said gently. Andrea shrugged.

"You said he was coming to stay. But he's not my _dad_," Andrea frowned, eyeing up Klaus. "Don't know _him_." Instead of pointing, she nodded at Klaus; she even, Kol noticed, scented the air, more subtly than she had in the barn, but she did. She was scenting him out.

Kol wondered what she would pick up with her sense of smell that reading Klaus wouldn't tell her, what her instincts would tell her about the man who claimed to be her father.

"Why don't I introduce you to your aunt and uncles?" Kol suggested, deciding to break the tension. "Then Mummy can get lunch ready without tripping over Sweet Pea."

"Sure," Andrea sighed. She squinted up at Kol sharply. "Not another aunt like that one in the barn?"

"She's a little like Freya. Just like you're probably a little like Hope, because you were raised by the same person," Kol said fairly.

"I guess," Andrea frowned, crinkling her little nose distastefully. And he realised that Andrea wasn't impressed that Rebekah may be like the aunt in the barn, whom she had a bad impression of already.

"I think you'll like Rebekah," Kol tried to assure her. "She used to look after you when you were a baby, did you know?"

"That's where all the pictures came from," Andrea said, pointing to the wall as they meandered down the hall, which was airy and full of light, glinting off photographs on the walls. There were _lots_ of photographs - something vampires tended to avoid: They charted the growth of his nieces.

"What aunt in the barn?" Hayley murmured to him as he passed, catching him by the arm.

"Oh yeah… So Freya had that werewolf chained up in the barn; Andrea found her when we were hunting Queen Charlotte's eggs," Kol said, giving Hayley a jaunty grin.

"_What_?" Klaus glowered. Kol noticed the look on Hayley's face as Klaus ticked closer to detonation: She was already rethinking the wisdom of waking them.

Andrea was waiting for him at the doorway into the best parlour: Because sitting inside, already halfway into a bottle of _Dom_, was Rebekah. And it struck Kol how out of place she looked, perfect, her hair pin-straight and shimmering, her clothing sharp and powerful, dark colours; she looked like a perfect modern ice queen. Compared to the earthier, richer femininity of her mother, Rebekah looked _threatening_.

Her smile made the frost melt, breathless with delight at the sight of Andrea. She set her champagne flute down and beamed.

"You've grown so _much_!" Rebekah gasped. "You won't remember me - but I'm your Auntie Bex."

"You're the lady who signed our fairytale book," Andrea said, and Rebekah's eyes glowed with delight, surprised - and touched - that Andrea had made the connection.

"I am. Do you like the stories?"

"I _love_ the pictures," said Andrea.

"I'm glad; I thought they were extraordinary. Your braids are very pretty. Did you do them yourself?" she asked, and Andrea nodded. "I used to wear my hair in braids, too."

"Really?" Andrea asked curiously.

"Yes; all different kinds of braids," Rebekah smiled. "When I was your age, my mother used to plait flowers into them, especially in the summertime when the meadows were lush with flowers."

"There's flowers in the woods but only in spring," Andrea told her, thoughtfully. She inched closer. "I like wood anemones and dog-tooth violets and hellebores and bluebells. We've been on wildflower hikes."

"Lovely," Rebekah beamed, and Andrea nodded.

"Mommy says when it's time, we can ride our bikes to the flower nursery and pick some new plants for the porch," Andrea said, smiling. "Can you ride a bike? I don't even have to use my training-wheels anymore!"

"I'm impressed. You'll have to teach Kol; he can't ride a bicycle," Rebekah smiled playfully, "and I haven't in years - I'd probably fall over!"

Andrea frowned thoughtfully. "We got bicycles for Christmas this year; Mommy told us they were from all of you."

"Well, I hope you get a lot of enjoyment out of yours," Rebekah smiled, flicking a look at Kol: Andrea was intuitive. And observant. That was a dangerous combination if they wanted to keep secrets.

"Where were you all?" Andrea asked, and Kol grimaced. "Mommy says you were all far away but together, but you still sent presents."

"Uh, well…"

"We were all very ill for a long time," Kol said quietly. "So it wasn't safe for us to be near you and Hope."

"You were sick?"

"I was. Very sick. And so was your Uncle Elijah. Rebekah and Freya weren't at their best, either," Kol said. "So Niklaus - your dad - he had to look after us. He didn't want to - he wanted to be here with you."

"We didn't need him here," Andrea shrugged, unconcerned. She smiled at Kol. "I'm glad you're better."

"I am. Much better," Kol smiled, but it felt hollow.

"Oh, _I_ know!" Andrea gasped suddenly, beaming. "Stay there, Sweet Pea! I'll be back!" And she ran off; Rebekah raised her eyebrows at Kol, as Sweet Pea watched them from the armchair, his tail flicking.

"She has energy - not like Hope at all," Rebekah murmured. "But her _looks_ \- do you not think -?"

"Niklaus, but beautiful?" Kol said, and nodded. "It's _eerie_. She told Hayley she doesn't have a dad." Rebekah's eyebrows rose, and her rosebud lips parted.

"Well, I suppose, from her experience, she doesn't," Rebekah said fairly, sighing heavily, and sipping her champagne.

"Perspective," Kol murmured, remembering what Andrea had said. "Who the hell is Maleficent?"

"She's the Evil Sorceress in _Sleeping Beauty_," Rebekah answered automatically. "A _Disney_ film. Wonderful Art Deco influences in the illustrations. And the prince could dance. I used to play it on a loop when the twins were infants. It was the only thing that calmed them down. _Tchaikovsky_."

"I like Tchaikovsky," said a little voice, and Andrea reappeared, clutching barrettes and hair-ties and a comb. "And Stravinsky. All the _Skys_." She grinned, and dumped the handfuls of hair-accessories on the sofa beside Rebekah. "I can braid your hair if you'd like. We're going to have lunch. There's always a breeze on the porch and sometimes the bugs land in your hair and get tangled. I promise I washed my hands so there's no cake or sugar on them." She held up her tiny hands. Her knuckles were still _dimpled_ in that way little children's were. "I don't want to get stuff on your hair. It's a pretty colour."

"Do you know what, I would _love_ a braid in my hair," Rebekah smiled warmly, looking emotional. This was one of the little girls she had been privileged to raise as newborns, when she was all that stood between them and a legion of enemies set on tearing them apart: She had kept them safe, and then she had had to give them up, all she had ever wanted.

"Where's Elijah?" Kol asked.

"Probably onto the _Economist_ by now," Rebekah said, rolling her eyes, and smiling as Andrea clambered onto the back of the sofa behind her.

"I'll go and get him," Kol sighed, shaking his head. "Reading the newspaper…honestly…"

"So, Andrea…you like Stravinsky?"

"One of Mommy's friends gave us a DVD of _Jewels_ by Balanchine. It's a _ballet_. They were dancing in London. I'd like to go to London; they have castles and afternoon-tea," Andrea said thoughtfully, and Kol smiled, leaving her to bond with Rebekah, who sat with perfect posture learned over centuries, as Andrea ran a comb tenderly through her long, shimmering hair.

Elijah had claimed Freya's vacated rocker, and did indeed have the _Economist_ open; but he was gazing over the top of the papers fluttering the breeze, watching Hope sat under an umbrella in the sunshine.

"You could at least read your newspaper while you sit at the table _with_ her," Kol suggested. Elijah flicked an annoyed look at him: Kol saw through it. "The unflappable Elijah Mikaelson…afraid of a seven-year-old."

"She's not just any seven-year-old, though, is she?" Elijah murmured.

"She's one of two seven-year-olds whose lives you fought for, before their own parents even accepted them," Kol said quietly. There were so few secrets amongst them; and they had spent five years in Freya's interminable bland dreamscape with nothing to do but brawl - and bond.

Without Niklaus, they had had _time_ \- Kol had spent five years with his brother and sister, in a way Niklaus had never allowed, not in a thousand years: Something had…_changed_. Inside that hellish _chambre_…

"Kol…" Elijah said warningly, folding his newspaper. Kol sighed, and sat down in the rocker beside Elijah. Elijah was _afraid_ to let the girls close; Kol knew it.

"We are all awake, now, and they are going to hear things. They're going to notice things. Especially when you're eye-fucking Hayley over the apricot Danishes," Kol said, and Elijah rolled his eyes and sharply swatted at him with the newspaper. "Andrea found a werewolf chained up in the barn; their innocence now has a shelf-life because we're all back in their lives… But when all is said and done, the girls deserve to know… These little girls aren't alive because Hayley and Klaus hate-fucked. They're alive because you fought for them. No matter how complicated this family is, however dysfunctional, how fraught their parents' relationship is, they deserve to know that they were _wanted_ \- and by no-one more than you. The only thing worse than being alone…is knowing that you aren't wanted."

He was intimately familiar with both sensations: It was only recently - it was _Davina_…

It was Davina who changed everything for him.

Her loyalty to her friends, to an ideal; and her independence from them. He had admired that balance.

And no matter the dysfunctional relationship between Hayley and Klaus, their parents, the twins deserved to know, no matter what they heard, and what they understood as they grew up, that there was at least one person in the world who loved and had fought for them from the very beginning - not because they were _heirs_ to a 'kingdom', or miracle babies of untold power or the lasting repercussions of a poor decision made while drunk…because they were _family_. And they were all that their dysfunctional family had ever dared wish for in the darkest, most viciously-guarded recesses of their blackened hearts.

"We do not know what Hayley has told them, what they understand," Elijah said quietly.

"She told them that we were ill, and that Klaus had to take care of us," Kol said quietly. "An elaborate lie built on a kernel of truth… Andrea just told Klaus he's not her dad." Elijah frowned at him, concerned. "How could he be - he's a stranger to her."

"That does not bode well," Elijah said softly, and Kol scoffed.

He shook his head. "It speaks volumes about our brother - your immediate instinct just then was to protect _Andrea_ from Klaus. Deny it."

Elijah sighed, settling into his chair, resting his head back. He closed his eyes, and shook his head. "I can't."

"No," Kol sighed. He knew it. They all knew the greatest danger to the twins would always and forever be their own father - his personality, and the devastation it caused; the legions of enemies he had created over the centuries - and the ones he would create, using the excuse of 'protecting his family' to do whatever pleased him. "For once in his reprehensible life, Niklaus will have to actually _earn_ something…"

"They are so vulnerable…so innocent… To see them, I can't help wonder how Hayley could bring herself to wake us…"

"We know why she woke _you_, Elijah," Kol said, but Elijah shook his head, opening his eyes and gazing into the sunlit woods unseeingly.

"Something's changed," he said softly.

"Something? _Everything_," Kol said. This mirrored so many times, sat on the porch in Freya's hellscape. "Hayley's had half a decade, raising her girls, seeking cures - all that - and she's had to do it without us…and she's discovered that she is more than capable of doing all of that _without_ us…in fact, all _we_ do is complicate things…"

"She always was capable of anything she put her mind to," Elijah murmured.

"I don't think she truly allowed herself to believe it - how could she; Klaus gave her no opportunity to prove it to herself. It was _always_ about him…" Kol said.

"She doesn't need us anymore," Elijah said softly.

"Are you joking?" Kol said, scoffing. "Of course she needs us; she needs our support, protecting the girls from Niklaus' worst instincts. She needs our help to help ensure the twins don't grow up bullied and manipulated, controlled by fear and afraid to put themselves first."

"They are his daughters."

"Yes. And we both know how Niklaus treats his family," Kol said coldly. "But they're also Hayley's, too, and she's had half a decade raising them by herself… They're not infants anymore, just _symbols_ of what we want for our family; they are flesh and blood and have their own desires and opinions… We must protect them from becoming _us_… It's time to break the wheel, brother."

Elijah stared at him, squinting. "I had hoped neither of us would remember our conversations in the _chambre de chasse_."

"We bonded; you can deny it if you'd prefer, but I remember, and I will hold it over you… We discussed this _ad_ _nauseum_…but now it's time to actually act on it," Kol told him. "Before there were prophecies, before we knew they had power, before they were _special_, you fought for those children - you protected them from their own father's worst instincts… And Hayley knows that. If we can honour that, then her waking us will be worth it."

"Kol…when did you become so wise?"

"Watching the rest of you fuck up so epically," Kol smiled, and Elijah scoffed, shaking his head. He folded his newspaper decisively. "And - Elijah…take off the suit and tie. You feel about as warm and approachable as a high-net-worth divorce attorney."

"Thank you, Kol," Elijah said, rolling his eyes again, but he did reach up to undo his tie. It was a start.

"And Andrea likes Stravinsky, BTW - that means 'by the way'," Kol said, and Elijah raised an eyebrow. "She's in there, talking to Rebekah about Sleeping Beauty and ballet and _braiding_ her hair. When's the last time you were truly around children?"

Elijah sighed heavily. "Marcellus."

"And Klaus grew so jealous of your bond with him, you felt forced to abandon the boy to protect him," Kol said succinctly. "You put me down over the issue; but we both know it was Niklaus who instigated everything, to get under your skin - because he was jealous of the two of you, tucked away in your schoolroom… I'd wager Marcellus still does not see how unhappy it made you to abandon him to Niklaus…"

"No," Elijah said softly, eyes downcast.

"Niklaus cannot be allowed to get away with it, not this time, not with those girls," Kol muttered. "It's not about him anymore. His _redemption_."

"You recall using the phrase 'ad nauseum' describing our _chambre de chasse_ discussions?" Elijah quipped. "This is old territory."

"Elijah. _He_ does not come first. Not anymore. The girls do. They're not just an extension of Klaus, a tool for his salvation. Inside Freya's _chambre de chasse_, you, Rebekah and I _vowed_ that they would never be allowed to feel that that is all that they are," Kol said sternly.

"We were drunk."

"The wine was imaginary."

"Then our conversation was also."

"We made a vow. The girls come first. And you've never broken a promise in a thousand years."

"I made a vow a thousand years ago, Kol… Always and forever."

"Made void because Niklaus never maintained his side of the promise! How often did he betray you and Rebekah? Inflict cruelty on you, because he could? Manipulated you, murdered the people you dared to love despite him?" Kol asked. "Our promise to the girls supersedes everything else. Only Niklaus can redeem himself; all you can do is protect his daughters from the very worst of his nature… Protect their innocence. That is why Hayley woke us. To protect them."

"We cannot protect them forever."

"We're not supposed to. Just long enough," Kol said softly.

"For what?"

"For them to grow up," Kol said sadly, thinking of Davina, and wondering how she would have responded to the twins. "To decide for themselves who they want to be, what they want to _do_…to have the freedom to fall in love and make mistakes and grow from their failures…to earn what they want, and appreciate it… To understand that not all monsters do monstrous things…"

"Well, isn't that a _beautiful_ sentiment," said a cold voice, and Kol sighed, gazing out over the parterres, Hope painting under an umbrella.

"One morning with you lurking and already I'm wistful for the _chambre to chasse_ \- something I never thought I'd be in another thousand years," Kol quipped back. "Lunch ready?"

"Hayley has asked for help to set the table," Klaus said coldly, through gritted teeth.

"What happened to the girl?" Elijah murmured.

"She's been disposed of."

"Lovely. After a captive werewolf, the girls can add finding a bloodless, rotting corpse to their Bingo card," Kol said, throwing his hands up. There was a scurry of little feet and Andrea appeared, giving Klaus a _look_ as she shimmied past him through the doorway, careful not to touch him.

"_OPIE_. Wash your hands! Mommy says lunch is nearly ready!" she called, climbing on the porch railing until she was almost toppling over into the peonies just starting to bud. Kol reached out to grab hold of the back of her t-shirt when she wobbled ominously.

"Andrea…you haven't said hello to your Uncle Elijah yet," Kol said, and helped her hop down from the railing. Andrea glanced over her shoulder, her little braids swinging over her shoulders, and she gave Elijah a toothless grin, waving energetically.

"Hi!" she chirped, before running down the porch steps, barefoot, and bounded over to her twin-sister under the umbrella; a quiet argument broke out between the two, as Andrea emptied the murky water in jam-jars across the lawn, closing the watercolour palette Hope was working from with a decisive snap.

* * *

**A.N.**: What do you think? I'm trying to veer away from the atrocity that was Elijah's character-assassination post-season three - although, after watching _Game of Thrones_, on a scale from One to Jon Snow, Elijah's barely ranks the Top Ten worst casualties of bad writing.


	3. Prologue: A House Divided

**A.N.**: I know, darlings, you thought I'd abandoned this baby!

I'll admit, I've been obsessed with new things - _Spinning Out; Outer Banks; Star Wars_. Check my profile if you haven't already for these stories. But I have been thinking about Andrea and what her story is going to be - and the stories of the characters I want to keep from _Legacies_.

I've also made the executive decision to keep Gia alive in this universe. Because her chemistry with Elijah was _off the charts_ \- and if Elijah can't be with Giulia in my universe, the next best thing is Elijah being with Gia in this one!

* * *

**The Heir and the Spare**

_Prologue_

_03_

_A House Divided_

* * *

"The girls have _never_ been sick, ever, this is just not like Hope…"

Kol frowned, half-listening to his siblings' conversation as he gazed into the twins' bedroom, watching Andrea as Hope lay shivering in her mother's arms.

The little poppet snuffled delicately in her sleep as she fidgeted into a more comfortable position - lying on her front, arms splayed, knees tucked beneath her, butt in the air, blanket tangled around her, her teddy-bear caught under her knee, Sweet Pea purring contentedly on her pillow. Blissfully dreaming, not concerned in the slightest by the mystical affliction plaguing her twin; and the last thing Kol wanted was to disturb her.

They needed to be sure.

He perched on the edge of the bed, and sighed. Gently, he rubbed her back until she snorted and squinted in the light from the hall and grumbled as she turned over and ignored him, fast asleep again, mouth hanging open.

"Andrea…wake up," he said softly, rubbing her shoulder, and she grumbled again, fidgeting, and turned to scowl at him.

"S'_dark_," she told him. She yawned so widely he could see her dinner. "It's not time for school yet."

"No… Hope's sick," he told her gently. "Aunt Freya needs to make sure you're alright."

"I'm _sleeping_," Andrea moaned, her eyes sliding closed as she settled into the mattress.

"Come on," Kol said brightly, and Sweet Pea raised his head, watching, as Kol picked Andrea up, tucking her under one arm like a sack of potatoes: She squawked indignantly, squirming. He set her on her feet - she wobbled precariously, before getting her bearings - in front of Freya, who smiled at her, reaching for her hand.

Was he petty enough that he enjoyed the way Andrea recoiled from Freya? That she pressed herself against Kol's legs, Sweet Pea's eyes flashing in the half-dark as he curled around Andrea's legs, his eyes on Freya, alert, his tail rigid, his ears twitching. Was he petty, that he enjoyed the disgruntled, unimpressed frown Andrea shot Klaus as he paced, clearly agitated, behind the sofa, occasionally shooting Hope, limp in her mother's arms, an anguished look.

_Absolutely_.

Kol relished tiny victories like these.

Over the last few days, he had come to the realisation that he adored Andrea Elyse Marshall, and he was in general irritated by most people.

Little Andrea had absolutely no guile. They all knew from her expressions exactly what she was thinking - whether it was distrust and severe dislike of Freya; awe as she watched Elijah playing the piano; or delight, giggling and laughing in the garden as she and Kol had a water-fight; or softness and deep love toward her mother; and an annoyance at her sister that seemed to be pervasive.

"Andrea, honey, Aunt Freya needs to check you're not sick," Hayley said gently, holding out a hand to her daughter.

"I was sleeping," Andrea yawned grumpily, scrubbing at her eyes while Sweet Pea guarded her ankles; she rested against Kol's legs, getting heavier as she slipped toward sleep, even standing up.

"I know; we wouldn't have woken you if it wasn't important," Hayley said, and Andrea's soft sighs answered, her eyelids drooping. Kol lifted her up, settling her against his waist, her little legs dangling by his hips, letting her curl up against his chest, yawning widely.

"Andrea." Freya's dreary voice was like a trap snapping shut. "Wake up. Now." She jerked the little girl's arm, and Kol narrowed his eyes at her.

"Easy," he warned. He had never liked Freya, it was true: In days, she had wormed her way into the 'inner circle' the way he had been trying for a millennium. In his mind, he had never known any older-sister to lose her; she was as much a stranger as any of the other hangers-on they accumulated through the centuries, who inevitably ended up collateral of one of Klaus' epic tantrums. And, Kol just didn't _like_ her as a person. She was an absurd combination of arrogance and soul-sucking dourness, petulant isolationism when it came to her magic - convinced she knew everything, had all the answers, and alone could do what needed to be done - and pathological about her place in _their_ family as the eldest to advise them, the witch to protect them.

Yet she had been awake only one year out of every century over the last ten centuries, practicing only Dahlia's dark magic. Whereas Kol…oh, he had immersed himself fully into all realms of the craft, a thousand years devoted to the study of magic, the many, varied, exquisite forms of magic that could be found all over the world.

No, they didn't get along, for a multitude of reasons.

The others all seemed to treat meek little Hope with kid gloves - not so the twin-sister whose facial expressions betrayed everything going on behind her pretty hazel eyes: She didn't like Freya, and Freya knew it.

Hope whimpered, and everyone but Kol turned anxious gazes on her: He was focused on Andrea, whose uncanny hazel eyes were focused with blazing intensity on Freya's face, her face a beacon of emotion - dislike, coupled with annoyance and distrust. It was a silent challenge, her determined little face, and there was something…almost animalistic about it - the _challenge_ in her posture as she faced off against Freya. _Wolf-like_.

"Freya's magic is of no use if she cannot tell with her own two eyes that Andrea is absolutely fine," Kol said impatiently. "Come on, poppet, let's get you back to bed."

"What about Hope?" Hayley asked.

"It's a malediction," Kol shrugged, as if this was obvious. "Representational spells rooted in blood-sacrifice. Of course, any witch who revelled in the chaos of the Trials during the Sixteenth Century could recognise it at a glance…" He gave Freya an arch look: Because Freya, of course, had only woken one year out of every century for the last ten centuries. Ten years. Compared to Kol's eternity.

Let them believe he was a petty, malicious anarchist bent on Klaus' destruction.

They called Niklaus the mastermind: Little did they know…

It suited Kol: Rather than rub his nose in it, he kept the truth from Niklaus, to continue the game… Or Niklaus would have used what little he knew about magic in its most vulgar form to prevent Kol from ever escaping the confines of a casket of his choosing.

Kol had spent a thousand years using Niklaus' narcissism against him. Using every trick and nuance of magic that Niklaus, with all his brilliance, could never understand, had no connection to, and therefore disdained and ridiculed as beneath him, despising witches for a power he could never wield and would never understand. He envied it, and Kol relished using it against his brother.

Every time a silver dagger was plunged into his heart, Kol had woken in a new body, freshly prepared; and he had left his siblings behind, relishing his freedom, and the magic flowing through his veins. He had lived over two hundred lifetimes, across the world, in different bodies, each time a unique experience…a new chance to practice and explore, to _live_ and to enjoy, to live each day as if the silver dagger would be pulled from his undead heart and tear him away from those he loved and lived with…

This last time was different. Marcel's venom had acted so quickly, his siblings had hovered so tenaciously, he hadn't had time to prepare a fresh body. If he'd had the time, he would have found another body to jump into when the venom killed his immortal shell, the body he sprang back to every time the dagger was removed from his heart as a failsafe - to prevent his family from learning the truth… He could have left it all behind, left _them_ all behind, never knowing he was alive, and thriving, as far away from them as he could get.

His family had decreed he would live, refused to leave his side this once.

So he had suffered it, his siblings preserving the undead prison he was condemned to while it was convenient for Niklaus to have him around.

This shell he was confined to was not him: And he regretted not being able to share in magic with his nieces.

To have Freya be the only source of tutelage they had access to within the family.

Freya, whom Andrea _recoiled_ from. Even groggy and disoriented as she was, Andrea remembered the wolf in the snare.

He wondered if she would forever associate Freya with fear, pain and torment. With _injustice_.

Had Kol still had access to his magic, perhaps they might have shown him some measure of deference to his innate gifts and unique wisdom. As it was, he was just superfluous to their intimate toxically co-dependent, dysfunctional little triad.

In another life, they might have listened to him about Hope. Listened to him in general. About the fact that, at a glance, he could tell Andrea suffered no maledictions.

Live long enough, immersed so deeply in magic, it was second-nature even when he was disconnected from it: He had a thousand years' experience absorbed by the pure, almost maniacal drive to explore, to experiment, to learn about magic. A thousand years, dozens of lifetimes, memories beyond counting. Each one of them unique. Each contributing to the witch he still thought of himself as. Kol had always made a phenomenal witch: From the moment he had woken in transition, he had devoted himself to finding new ways to channel magic.

"Wait," Hayley said, her expression startled, and she fidgeted, drawing a note out of her jeans pocket. Her lips parted as she unfolded the paper.

"It's…from Vincent Griffith."

"What?" Klaus growled.

"Someone hand me the phone, please," Hayley said, and Elijah obliged, handing her the phone then coming to stand beside Kol, his dark eyes soft as he gazed at Andrea's little face, already sleeping against Kol's chest. Elijah reached out to gently stroke her hair, her back, and she sighed, squirming decadently in Kol's arms, slumbering on. On the sofa, Hope whimpered, turning her wan face to Hayley, her lower-lip trembling, her eyes wide and uncertain, seeking. She didn't know what was happening to her. Kol watched Hope. She didn't know what was happening; but she _did_ know that she held the attention of everyone in the room.

Over the last few days, they had started to learn about the twins.

It had annoyed Hayley to no end that Klaus' first question regarding their daughters concerned any powers they had exhibited.

Hayley's answer: "They're _seven_." She was more concerned with how they had settled into First Grade; how well they treated each other; giving them precious time to spend with their pseudo-grandmother Mary. Letting them grow up, forming relationships with people…rather than defining her daughters by their unusual birth and unpredictable gifts.

They were getting to know the twins as _people_. They weren't just _things_, or ideals - as Kol had said to Elijah. They were little personalities, growing and evolving with every passing day. And they were very _different_ personalities.

And it was very telling, who the twins' favourites were in the family.

Within days of their return, it was very evident that Andrea was actually some kind of barnacle-hybrid: She was permanently attached to Kol. And he didn't mind in the slightest. She adored Rebekah, who braided her hair every morning, and who was teaching her to sew and knit, something 'Grandma Mary' did, apparently. Elijah had mesmerised her with music; he had started giving her piano-lessons. She was no born Mozart, destined to be a prodigy, but the little girl practiced diligently: The sound of her dissonant playing woke them every morning. But she kept practicing, eager to have another lesson with Uncle Elijah, sharing the piano-bench while he played for her, before it was her turn. Andrea's favourites were firstly, her mother. Then Kol, Rebekah and Elijah, who was learning to relax around her, seeing that the little blonde twin wasn't a fragile little creature made of glass and held together with a wish - she was vibrant, playful and curious. She fiercely disliked Freya; and distrusted Klaus, and made no apologies for not thinking of him as anything but a stranger.

Hope was the opposite. She was entranced by Klaus, shy but curious, and together they sat at a table on the lawn, painting, or wandering the woodland around the house. She had bonded with Freya over their shared magical heritage; from what Kol had seen, Hope was far more advanced in accessing her gifts than Andrea, who didn't seem to think about them unless she was using them - except for her innate passion for gardening, an indicator of her witch heritage, drawn to the earth, coaxing things to grow. Hope seemed to want to impress Freya and Klaus with her magic, even knowing Hayley warned against using it for their own safety; she seemed to adore the idea of Klaus as her father, raised on stories of him that Hayley had told as fairytales before bed. Sanitised versions, of course; very little dismembering at all, and not even a single beheading.

Kol was unsure whether it had been wise of Hayley to fill her daughters' heads with an idea of who their father was. Was it _dangerous_ for the girls, to be ignorant of his true nature?

Inevitably, Klaus would disappoint them. Possibly worse. They hadn't been exposed to him since infancy - and their earliest years were scarred by the _war_ over them. Hayley had fought with a mother's intuition and _love_, wanting the very best for her daughters' safety even and especially if it meant keeping them away from the family that posed such devastating dangers to them: Klaus had fought with his characteristic narcissism and sense of entitlement and ownership over his progeny, paranoia over their loss and his loss of control over their lives, their safety. He had _cursed_ Hayley, to remove her from their daughters' lives when she dared remind Klaus that the biggest threat to their safety was _him_. Their family.

Now, Kol could see the cogs churning inside Klaus' mind as he paced, glaring at Hope - infuriated by his helplessness. Klaus never could stand magic. In general, he despised, manipulated and despatched its practitioners, distrusted that they had strength he could never access, and had little patience with understanding the impossible nuances a non-practitioner could never appreciate.

That Hope suffered a malediction, that Vincent Griffith, a powerful witch, was on the other end of the line with Hayley, discussing the representational magic that had bound Hope, was too much for Klaus to bear. He preferred enemies he could rip apart with his bare hands. Klaus had always felt catharsis in others' blood on his hands. And right now, he was ready to rip Vincent Griffith to ribbons for having the nerve to contact Hayley while Hope was suffering.

Hayley put the phone on speaker so they could all hear: Vincent Griffith told them about a rising darkness in New Orleans threatening the local witch children, who had been disappearing. Hope was only one of the children affected, one of several bound by representational magic. He and Marcel had worked together to track down those children, and cleanse them of the influence of the threat. Hope was the last.

And she had to return to New Orleans for Vincent to cleanse her.

"Why only Hope, though? Why hasn't Andrea been affected?" Hayley asked, when Vincent had ended the call - asserting that Marcel had given them temporary immunity to return to the Quarter, as long as they weren't blatant, and left as soon as Hope was safe.

"Hope has already shown unusual power and mastery over it," Kol said, interrupting Freya's assertion that "_She's the firstborn_." Kol sent Freya a scathing look, as Hayley and Klaus both frowned at him. "If you're going to use representational magic to sacrifice witch children, you're not going to waste your time with any but the most powerful."

"But she _is_ the firstborn," Freya asserted, and Kol rolled his eyes, giving her a withering look.

"My dear, you were the firstborn; but _I_ was the prodigy," he sniffed. "All that firstborn nonsense you cling to is Dahlia's damage, irrelevant outside of her warped bargain with Esther. My birth had nothing to do with my power. And it's the _power_ they're after." Heat touched Freya's cheeks, but she jutted her jaw petulantly. In that way, she was very much Klaus' half-sister, at least.

"So the girl has no power," Klaus said, frowning at Andrea sleeping soundly in Kol's arms.

Kol sighed impatiently, staring coldly at his brother. "_The girl_'s name is Andrea. And she _has_ access to magic, brother; she is also seven years old. Most magical children do not gain full access to their gifts until the onset of puberty. And learning how to wield and manipulate magic takes education and a lot of patience and practise."

Elijah glanced from Kol to Klaus, his eyes resting on Hope.

"This is a discussion for another day," he said gently. "For now, we must concern ourselves with Hope's recovery. Vincent inferred that timing is of the essence; we should return to the Vieux Carré as quickly as possible."

"Some of us should stay behind," Rebekah said thoughtfully.

"A few of us staying behind sends a message to Marcel," Kol nodded, agreeing.

"And what is that?" Klaus snarled.

"That we do not intend to stick around any longer than it takes Vincent Griffith to cleanse Hope of this malediction," Kol said coolly.

"We're family; we stick together," Hayley said passionately, gazing around the room. "I won't separate them."

"You would place one in danger to save the other?" Kol asked calmly, staring at her, even as he was aware that he held Andrea a little closer. Hayley's hazel eyes popped, staring at Kol in indignation and anger.

"I would _never_ -"

"Whatever power is rising in New Orleans was strong enough to bind Hope using representational magic," Kol said, and Andrea sighed in his arms, head against his heart, where she had burrowed deep over the last few days, never to be dislodged. "This is…ancient, convoluted, _dark_ magic in its purest, its worst form."

"And how do we know Marcellus isn't behind this, orchestrating some trap to lure us back to New Orleans and slaughter us?" Klaus snarled.

"Do you learn nothing from the past? Marcellus does not hurt children. He would not _stoop_ to use the innocent to get back at us," Elijah said, glancing from Hope prone on the sofa in Hayley's arms to Andrea in Kol's arms, her blonde hair shimmering in the lamplight, illuminating her sun-warmed face.

"If Vincent has summoned you to the Quarter to cleanse Hope, it's because Marcel wills it in spite of everything else," Kol said, with a touch of asperity: It was difficult maintaining a cool head and _not_ rising to the bait when his siblings were being so prodigiously blockheaded. "And if that alone does not show Marcel's true character, I doubt there's anything else that will convince you of it." Rebekah sighed softly from her armchair, looking dejected.

"Enough. We will not separate those girls," Klaus decreed. "We leave for New Orleans tonight, before any further harm can befall Hope. Prepare the other for the journey."

Kol frowned at his brother, hugging his sleeping niece closer. "Andrea. The _other's_ name is Andrea."

"And she spoke of nothing but showing her diorama to Mr Valente all week," Rebekah said. They had been helping her - well, they sat with her while Andrea got on with her class project. The girls had the same class teacher, and both had the same project: Klaus had been doing Hope's for her, making it exceptional - and clearly not crafted by the hands of a seven-year-old, letting Hope paint while he worked. Andrea was happy to work on her own shoebox diorama, while Kol and Rebekah sat and listened to music or read fashion magazines, sharing the table on the porch with her while she snipped and glued and painted and gathered mud and flowers and an egg, and tried to figure out what she could use to fill with water for a pond, and hummed to herself, Sweet Pea chaperoning her everywhere.

Kol fixed Hayley with a look that was, to them, uncharacteristically sombre. "For all the troubles waking us has caused you…you're not doing this alone anymore," he told her. He glanced down at the top of Andrea's golden head as she sighed in his arms, gently pressed a kiss to her fragrant hair, and gazed at her mother. "We're here to help."

Klaus started a monologue, all about unity and family and honestly, Kol had heard it all before, and had fundamentally grasped the hypocrisy of Klaus' warped sense of loyalty and family and unity the first time he sank a dagger into Kol's heart for having the audacity to _not_ put Niklaus first.

Hayley wasn't paying attention, any more than Kol was. Her hazel eyes, wiser now through experience - raising her twins _alone_, making every decision based on one fundamental principle: Was it what was best for her daughters? She gazed at Kol, and in that moment, he saw it. Hayley had made her decision.

"I will not let either of my daughters grow up learning that it's expected of them to put their lives on hold because of something happen to the other. One is not more precious than the other," Hayley said, her tone gentle but her eyes fierce, and her glare lingered on Klaus for a heartbeat that shocked him into silence, erasing his agitation and rage, replacing it with something oddly close to humility. Hayley gazed around the room at them, resting her eyes on lonely Rebekah, noble and inherently sad, self-sacrificing Elijah, Freya, so desperate for connection to a family she idealised in her mind, and Kol, the black sheep, the outcast, and happiest when he was boxed up because it afforded him so much freedom from the siblings who had forgotten that they loved and cared for him over centuries of Klaus' manipulation and torment.

"I will not raise my daughters the way you have lived your lives for a thousand years," she said, her voice unyielding - the voice of a mother. Her eyes rested unflinchingly on Klaus. The originator of their family's misfortune - and the majority of their dysfunction. "Kol is right. Before, I would have taken both the twins out of necessity, because I _was_ doing it alone. But I won't put Andrea in danger while we find help for Hope. So here's what's going to happen. Rebekah and Kol, can I ask that you stay here, with Andrea, while I take Hope to New Orleans with Klaus and Elijah?"

It wasn't a reflex to call on Freya: She was the newest addition to their family. The twins had been the centre of their world for longer than Freya had tentatively been invited into the fringes of it.

"No - we stick together -"

"This is not a _discussion_, Klaus." Hayley's voice was like a wolf-trap. She gazed back levelly at Klaus. "You did things your way, and I don't ever forget it." A not-so-subtle allusion to those months she had spent as a cursed werewolf, living out in the bayou, stripped of the privilege of motherhood, forced to wait for the full-moon to visit her daughters. "I will always do what is best for my daughters. For _both_ my daughters. I won't leave Andrea vulnerable to harm while Hope has already been exposed to it. We don't have to be physically close to be strong and united; that strength comes…from somewhere else, somewhere far deeper. So I'm going to trust that Rebekah and Kol will keep Andrea safe and happy. Kol has spent lifetimes studying magic; he can protect Andrea from harmful magic." Kol nodded, startled and oddly touched that Hayley recognised his skills, his hard-earned knowledge from experience.

The entire conversation felt…momentous. As if a line had been crossed, separating what had been, and what was to come. Klaus had defined their past. Was it possible that Hayley could define their future, by shaping her daughters' lives? She had learned from their messy, fraught pasts - taken the best, acknowledged the worst, to inform how she wanted to raise her daughters.

"You and I will take Hope to New Orleans; and Elijah's going to make sure you don't get side-tracked by any thoughts of vengeance and start something with Marcel," Hayley said sternly.

Klaus' lips parted, but Hayley cut him off.

"Don't. I don't want empty promises; I want you to prove the kind of father you're going to be with your _actions_," she said. "Going back to the city isn't about proving anything, it isn't about getting even, taking your revenge, or reclaiming power - it's about Hope. Her safety. Her life."

Kol could tell Klaus didn't like that.

But something strange had happened the last five years, while Klaus endured a _taste_ of what he had inflicted on his siblings, on his enemies - even those he claimed were his _friends_.

Klaus backed down.

He sighed, and nodded, and went to ready the car.

Kol carefully avoided his siblings' gaze for a moment, while they discussed the practicalities. They had been together long enough to know Hayley's and the girls' routine, and it fell to Rebekah and Kol to maintain that routine for Andrea in Hayley's absence. To prepare meals, and lunchboxes, and help with homework - encouraging Andrea's reading, her number-bonds and encouraging her interests; also, to take her to soccer practice and playdates. Hayley bequeathed her stuffed daily planner to them.

To excuse Hope's absence from school and sports, they would tell people that Hayley had to take her to New Orleans for an appointment with a specialist consultant. The best lies - or stories - were built around a kernel of truth, after all. Hayley signed the necessary paperwork to give Kol and Rebekah guardianship over Andrea in her absence - it was a simple precaution, and far easier than mass-compulsion.

Then Kol was tucking Andrea back into bed, while Rebekah and Freya stood on the porch, watching the tail-lights disappear into the darkness.

Freya, the only human among them, went to bed not long after. Kol sat with Rebekah in the quiet parlour, and Kol finally said it; "He backed down."

"The last five years must have done what a millennium could not," Rebekah sighed. "Taught Nik _compassion_."

"I do wonder how long it'll take for him to get back to his old self," Kol said tartly. Rebekah shot him a look. "You and I both know he's had lapses like this before, lulling us to believe it's even _possible_."

"This time feels different."

"We'll see."

"Yes… I suppose we will," Rebekah sighed, her hair glimmering as she shook her head.

"You're glad you don't have to return to New Orleans and see him again."

"I've…walked away from him far too many times," Rebekah admitted, grimacing as if suffering a headache, her hand fluttering to her brow. She smoothed her hair. "I'm not sure I could do it again."

"Well…happily for us, we've got a vibrant little distraction to keep us busy," Kol said, smiling to himself.

"You adore her." Kol glanced up at his sister, who was smiling warmly at him. "You like her."

"All that time in that house of horrors," he sighed, "I admit, I never imagined Hayley would free us - at least, not nearly so soon. I imagined the girls would be grown…perhaps I hoped they would be."

"Why? Miss out on all this?"

"They'd be _grown_, Rebekah," Kol said, sighing softly. "They'd know their own minds - have a chance to _grow_…before Nik came into their lives again."

"You really think he'll do the same damage to the girls as he did to us?"

"Not with Hayley putting her foot down as she did today. I don't know, Nik seems like he's suffered, but Hayley - she's been doing it all by herself, for years. And she's found she's good at it. Doesn't need us. We're here because she wants us to be."

"We're here because we're family."

Kol shook his head. "We both know this family is the worst thing for these girls."

"So why haven't you gone off on your own?"

"The last five years hasn't just had an effect on Niklaus… When we were in that horrorshow Freya called a chamber de chasse, we were a family. Five years, uninterrupted - you, me, Elijah. I had a family."

"You're forgetting Freya." Kol rolled his eyes, and Rebekah sighed, shaking her head. "You still don't like her." Kol shrugged.

"I don't not like her, I just don't _like_ her," he said. "I suppose her dysfunction does fit, but I don't have to like her, or crave a relationship with her. A thousand years I've been trying to mean anything to the three of you… I suppose I'll forever wonder why you favoured a stranger over a brother who desperately wanted to be allowed to love you."

"Kol…"

"Well, that's enough of that for one night… I'm going to bed," Kol declared, and he paused, to check on Andrea, Sweet Pea's eyes flashing in the light as he cracked the door open. The little one snuffled and sighed in her sleep, heedless of the empty bed on the other side of the room; Kol shut the door, and padded to the room he and Elijah had been sharing, glad of the privacy as he sank down onto his bed.

* * *

**A.N.**: I just love Kol. And I just… I've never liked Freya, even from her very first introduction to the show. The best part about Freya is Keelin. So, that'll bleed through this story - I'm trying to set it up that there will be conflicting personalities, and clashes within the family later on, based on those personalities. Because no family gets along all the time, and we all have our favourites. And I refuse to believe our darling Kol would get along with Freya, who was accepted by his siblings when he's spent a thousand years trying to get in on Always and Forever.

I'm planning to write several chapters for what is essentially 'season four' of _The Originals_, but Kol and Andrea's time in the Crescent City will be limited because of what I'm going to do with them; then when everything's set in place, there will be a time-jump. Or two!


	4. Prologue: The Way Forward

**A.N.**: Okay, I've just fallen in love with _Wynonna Earp_, _Godless_ and _The Alienist_. For anyone with Netflix, I would highly recommend each of these series. And _Godless_ helped me to develop one of my OCs.

Also, my Face-Claim for Andrea has shifted a bit, to the model Stormi Bree.

Trying to watch _Legacies_ again (I failed miserably) I think I'm going to pick and choose some of the established character _names_, and put my own spin on the actual characters and plots they're involved in. So there will be a Kaleb, and a Penelope, and a Rafael and Landon of some description, but I feel like the background characters/relationships weren't established, the way _TVD_ and _The_ _Originals_ put so much work into really grounding characters and bonds between them, before going into the nitty-gritty of supernatural misadventures.

I also want to clarify that I am not, nor have I ever been, a Freya fan, which is why it leaks through Kol's introspection so often! I don't understand how she weaselled her way into Always and Forever while Kol was left gathering dust in a coffin for centuries at a time (in canon), you know? And they write her as all-powerful, highly skilled, but she was awake for at most about thirty years, not consecutively, and she is a stranger, so why would the others allow her to cast herself as the 'protective eldest sibling', a role that has been Elijah's for a thousand years! I don't like her. Her attitude sucks, the way she speaks sounds like she's always at a funeral, she treats people poorly and I found myself actually _defending_ _Klaus_ when she came along trying to manipulate her way into the family by pushing him out - and you _know_ I'm not naturally a Klaus-supporter, which says it all. Sorry, I'll end my Freya-rant by saying that the family dynamics between the Originals is going to be a big part of this story, because - well, I don't need to pay the actors or get the commitment of their time, the way the TV show did! So I can do what I want with them. And the twins will each have their favourites, and that will affect tensions within the family, especially between the twins (for example, Freya brushing off what Hope did with Henry/Hayley as an adolescent 'Firstborn Witch' tantrum SHE ASSISTED A BOY'S SUICIDE FOR MONEY AND LITERALLY GOT HER MOTHER KIDNAPPED, TORTURED AND KILLED!) Breathe…just breathe… Sorry. That whole scenario _infuriates_ _me_.

Also, we get to see Damon and Elena. *I promise, I'll be _kind_ to Elena in this universe, not like my Giulia Salvatore 'verse!

* * *

**The Heir and the Spare**

_Prologue_

_04_

_The Way Forward_

* * *

"It's not even ten o'clock in the morning. How can a seven-year-old get _suspended_ from school?"

"Well, it's not an official suspension; they just want us to go and collect her."

"You know we'll be blamed for this."

"We? _You_," Rebekah said, smirking, as she guided the SUV to the sprawling elementary school. Kol spluttered indignantly, even though he knew it to be true: The others _would_ link Andrea's uncharacteristic misbehaviour with his influence over the last week.

"Did they say what happened?"

"Apparently there's been a brawl," Rebekah sighed, climbing out of the car. They made their way toward the Administration Office, where they had been summoned to collect their charge and endure the wrath of the Principal.

"Our little poppet doesn't strike me as the brawler," Kol said thoughtfully. They had enjoyed an entire week unencumbered by the others; even Freya had skulked off, and though they had their suspicions, neither Kol nor Rebekah confronted her, too entranced with the niece they were privileged to have the time to bond with. As they wandered the covered pathway toward the office, a woman with her rather corpulent son came waddling past, the boy, almost as tall as his mother, wailing against her shoulder, a bloody tissue pressed to his nose, a sweet-smelling snack clamped in his other hand.

"You can _smell_ the diabetes percolating in his blood," Rebekah sniffed, crinkling her delicate nose as if nauseated. Kol glanced over his shoulder at the boy with the bloody tissue clamped to his nose as he shovelled in powdered mini-donuts.

"Take one sip and you'll need an oxygen-mask when you crash back down," Kol muttered. "You don't think our girl's responsible for that bloody nose?"

"We'll find out," Rebekah sighed bracingly, opening the door to the Administration Office. There she was, her shining golden hair perfectly braided, her head in her hand, looking extremely morose and agitated, her face tear-stained, sat in one of the adult-sized chairs, her sandaled feet dangling six inches off the floor as she waited. Rebekah approached the desk; Kol approached their niece, squatting down in front of her. She gazed despondently at him, her hazel eyes beautiful and sad, her face glum, tear-stained, her ear-defenders clamped over her ears to help diffuse the ambient noises that drove her to pain, and in her lap was her shoebox diorama. Her hands were trembling, Kol saw.

"Poppet, whatever's the matter?" he asked gently, rubbing her knee, and Andrea pulled the ear-defenders around her neck. "What's happened?"

"He _broke_ Max's diorama on the bus!" she wailed, as if she'd been holding it in for far too long, her eyes swimming with fierce tears at the injustice, her lip trembling. "_It was really cool_! I told Kyle not to, but he _laughed_ and threw the diorama on the floor and _stomped_ it. So I hit Kyle with a book."

"_Oh_. Kyle again," Kol sighed, shaking his head, and tucked the diorama on the next seat, opening his arms to Andrea, crystalline tears trickling down her cheeks. She hiccoughed and sniffled and burrowed against his chest. He collected her in his arms, and sat down with her in his lap, cuddling her close as she sniffled and cried, upset and overwhelmed. He shushed and soothed her, and Rebekah came to sit beside them, sighing as she settled herself with perfect poise in the next chair, stroking Andrea's braids.

"The Principal wants a word," she sighed.

"Oh, this should be illuminating," Kol said glibly, as the Principal appeared. They were called into the office, leaving Andrea in foyer with her diorama and her tears, introduced to the Principal of the school.

"Can I just clarify your relation to Andrea?" the Principal asked, as they sat around a small table.

"Paternal aunt and uncle," Rebekah said. "The twins' mother had to take Hope to New Orleans to visit a specialist consultant, so we're looking after Andrea."

"Ah… Well, that may have contributed to her episode."

"_Episode_?" Kol blinked, frowning at the woman. "_What_ may have contributed?"

"Well, Andrea's feelings of anxiety over her sister's illness."

"Oh, I can assure you, she's not feeling anxious in the slightest about Hope," Kol scoffed. "Rather enjoying the time away from her twin. You know how siblings get, forced to be forever in each other's pockets." He shot Rebekah a saccharine smile. She rolled her eyes, smiling. He levelled a look at the Principal.

"And as for this _episode _you've called it, what exactly happened?" Rebekah asked coolly, resting a hand on Kol's leg, sensing the agitation in his tone as he frowned at the woman.

"On the bus-ride to school this morning, there was a fight, involving Andrea and one of the boys in fifth-grade."

"You're telling me our tiny niece got into it with that overweight monstrosity we saw lumbering out, shoving donuts down his gullet?" Kol asked.

"According to several of the children, including Andrea herself, Kyle was teasing one of the boys in Andrea's class -"

"_Teasing!_ According to _Andrea herself_, Kyle broke this Max's boy's diorama," Kol interrupted, frowning. "From where I'm sitting, that is _bullying_. Or are we too frightened to use that word."

"We do not tolerate bullying at this school."

"Oh, of course not. You call it _teasing_; therefore there _is_ no bullying at your school. And yet you have a physically intimidating older boy wrecking first grader's class-projects on the bus-ride to school," Kol said sharply. "Tell me, how _safe_ do you think Max believes he is, taking the bus to school? Waiting for that disgusting, obese creature to wreck the creations he's worked so hard on?"

"Are there adult chaperones on the bus to ensure the children are safe?" Rebekah asked, her tone gentle but still cool.

"Funding can only stretch so far. The town provides the buses to ensure parents are not prevented from getting to work on time; they must trust their children to behave in a way that ensures their safety," the Principal said.

"So you're relying on a bully to _not_ torment his victims in an enclosed space without any adult supervision," Kol frowned, nodding slowly. "I only marvel that it was our seven-year-old niece who stood up to defend her classmate, not one of the other older children who ride the bus to school. Do they not wish to have Kyle _tease_ them?"

"We're here to discuss your niece, Mr…"

"Mikaelson. We _are_ discussing Andrea, and the circumstances that led up to her hitting a Fifth Grader with a textbook when he destroyed a seven-year-old's diorama on the bus where there is no adult supervision to ensure the children's safety," Kol said sharply. "And Kyle intimidating his own classmates to the point where they dare not interfere as he victimises younger children is absolutely pertinent to why Andrea found it necessary to stand up to him."

"Let's get to the point. You've asked us to take Andrea home for the day," Rebekah said, turning cold blue eyes on the Principal. "You're punishing her for standing up for what is right, is that correct?"

"We do not condone violence at this school."

"It wasn't at school. It was on the bus, a service which is provided by the town, not the school," Rebekah clarified coldly. "You can be assured we _will_ be taking Andrea out of this school for the day, for it is obvious this issue will not be dealt with as it should. One should _always_ stand up for what one believes, especially when one witnesses injustice." Rebekah leaned forward in her seat, her smile vicious, and Kol smirked to himself as she let threads of compulsion whisper into the Principal's ear. "If I were you, I would concern myself with the message you send children by punishing them for goodness."

"And if I were you," Kol added, leaning forward, locking eyes with the Principal, "I'd concern yourself with what is causing that boy's maliciousness toward little children, rather than ignore that it is happening."

"Is there anything else?" Rebekah smiled sweetly.

The Principal blinked dazedly. "I think it best that Andrea address her class with an apology for her violent behaviour. She's a vibrant, kind little girl and I'd hate for her to be viewed as a violent aggressor, a bully."

"You mean, you wouldn't want the other children to think she'd start _teasing_ them," Kol said coldly. He wasn't going to let go of that, what she had said, excusing Kyle's bullying.

"I want to ensure children aren't afraid of Andrea," the Principal said stiffly. "She's a wonderful addition to her classroom, and this latest incident shows just how passionate she is about protecting her friends and standing up for what is right."

"Mm," Rebekah said, giving the woman a cold look.

"And is _Kyle_ going to issue a formal apology to every child who rides the bus? To the little boy whose project he destroyed?" Kol asked coldly.

"We're discussing Andrea," said the Principal.

"That's a no," Kol sniffed, exchanging a glance with Rebekah.

"Rest assured I have already discussed Kyle's behaviour with his mother," the Principal said tightly.

"You see, I don't think I _will_ rest assured that you will do anything about his behaviour. My seven-year-old niece had to step in when he was tormenting another small child," Kol said. "And you call it _teasing_, would rather punish Andrea for standing up for her friend than address the fact that you have an overweight bully intimidating your young students, being physically violent toward them and destructive of their belongings. I am glad at least that Andrea has stood up for her friend; others will see it is possible to stand up to Kyle. His power over them will be broken. And that is something. For now, we will take Andrea to her classroom to deliver her diorama, and then we will take her away from school for the day, and discuss the many and varied ways in which we can stand up to bullies _before_ violence becomes the only option left."

They left the Principal feeling decidedly more rattled than she had ever been since she first started teaching and had to deal with an irate parent at the school gates, and far less in control than she was used to feeling in such situations.

"Come on, poppet," Kol sighed, approaching Andrea. "You can drop off your diorama before we go."

"I'm going home?" Big hazel eyes stared back at them, bloodshot, her face tearstained.

"Yes," Rebekah said softly. Kol crouched down in front of Andrea, always careful to go down to her level and meet her eye.

"But I told Max I'd help him fix his diorama!" Andrea exclaimed. "I_ promised_."

"We thought we'd go for a bite to eat and have a little chat about what happened on the bus today," he said gently, gazing into her tired little face. She nodded glumly.

"Are you going to tell Mommy what I did?" she asked, her face drawn, guilty.

"Aunt Bex is," Kol said, and Rebekah made an indignant noise behind him. "Come on…" They delivered the diorama, and met Andrea's teacher - who was surprised by the uncharacteristic outburst from Andrea; the children in the classroom spotted Andrea and several of them were chided for leaving their seats, going to greet her, beaming and excited. A little African-American boy approached her, shy but sweet, his face tearstained, and Kol leaned in the doorway, watching the two interact. The little boy gave Andrea a hug, and she dawdled back to Kol, gazing up at him regretfully through her eyelashes.

"Who was that, poppet?"

"That was Max," she said glumly, her shoulders drooping, as she reached unconsciously for the hand Kol offered her. She slipped her little paw in his hand, and they wandered to the school entrance. "Unkol?"

Kol smiled to himself; when speaking to Andrea or Hope, the others referring to him as Uncle Kol. Andrea's lilting Southern drawl had blended the two words together. He'd never had a nickname before - well, _traitorous bastard_ was a favourite within the family - and he found it endearing.

"Yes, pet?"

Andrea sighed. "Am I in trouble?"

"Oh…_moderate_. Not quite squeal-like-a-piglet," Kol assured her. "But I think we'd best nip some things in the bud, before you're the one who ends up getting hurt." She was passionate about defending the helpless. Passionate, fiercely _just_, and still innocent. He never wanted to do anything to stifle that instinct: Neither he nor Rebekah did. But the fact remained, well…she was a little girl. A baby still - and compared to their thousand years' experience, she and Hope would always be babies. And the others would always try to protect them from every evil in the world. Some, like school playground bullying, were unavoidable; and they had to give the girls the best tools to deal with such things. They couldn't fight every battle on their behalf; and because of the girls' unique natures, it would be dangerous to allow them to go through life without addressing the fact that they were different - that if Andrea had perhaps hit Kyle a little harder, she might have done some serious damage to the boy. Enough to threaten the secret of the supernatural that existed in the world…enough to trigger their parents' werewolf curse.

"Come on, little slugger," Rebekah smiled, unlocking the SUV, and Kol gave Andrea a boost into the backseat.

"How is it such a little person can tuck away so much food?" Kol asked, a half-hour later, watching Andrea make her way through a loaded breakfast plate - silver-dollar pancakes, with a side of bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs and a fruit-cup. Hayley had raised her with manners; Andrea sat up properly, held her knife and fork prettily, and ate with her mouth closed, never speaking while she chewed. She always said _please_, and _thank you_, and shared her treats.

It was the little things like that that Kol noticed: Hayley was _raising_ her daughters. She had put a lot of time and effort into raising them to be conscientious, well-mannered little people, encouraging their interests, nurturing their talents without overwhelming them. They were allowed to be _children_: But they _weren't_ allowed to be rude or obnoxious or spoiled, and Kol respected Hayley far more for raising her daughters with humility than her raising them by the warped dysfunction of being _the Original heirs_. They were little children, and Hayley was giving them the opportunity to learn who they were outside of the broken dynamic of their twisted family legacy. It mattered more to Hayley who her daughters were, and who they would _become_, and Kol understood it - and respected Hayley as a person, as a mother, far more than he had ever thought he would.

"I have an overactive patooty gland," Andrea smiled mischievously.

"Pit-u-i-tary," Rebekah enunciated, smirking, as she sipped bad diner coffee.

"Mommy says my metabolism is _fierce_," Andrea smiled. "That's why, all the time, when I go swimming or play soccer I'm so cranky after - I'm hungry; my body's burned away all the fuel."

"Do you like sports, then?" Rebekah asked, and Andrea nodded, smiling. She finished her mouthful, gasping as she took a gulp of water, and nodded again.

"I like soccer and swimming and basketball and baseball and gardening," she clarified.

"Is gardening a sport?" Kol teased.

"It is the way _I_ play - and it's _competitive_," Andrea grinned. "Mommy told me about Chelsea Flower Show in London, where, every year, people put together their best flowers. We watched it on television." Rebekah's phone started chiming, and she gave Kol a disgruntled grimace as she picked up her sleek new _iPhone_, sighing.

"This is Hayley," she sighed, eyeing Andrea. "She must have been contacted by the school. I'll take this outside." She gave Kol a speaking look and accepted the call, wandering out of the diner into the sunshine, where she was a slash of sleek darkness, impossibly cool in the sultry heat. Andrea watched her go, and turned to Kol, looking thoughtful and contrite.

"Unkol…did I do the wrong thing?" she asked, grimacing slightly.

Kol sighed heavily. How to phrase it correctly. What she learned from him now would resonate throughout her life. "Your Principal is disappointed because you were violent toward Kyle, not because you defended Max. We should always do our best to stand up for ourselves and others who are vulnerable…but there are far better ways of standing up to bullies than with violence."

"Like how?" Andrea asked curiously. Her hazel eyes were fixed on his face, entreating him; her blonde hair shimmered in the light streaming through the window, making the tips of her eyelashes glow gold, and Kol smiled to himself. She looked so like Klaus, except for those eyes - her mother's eyes. And yet, though she looked so eerily similar to her father, she had none of his nature.

She understood she had made a mistake, for one thing; and she was actively listening to someone's advice to prevent the same thing happening again.

"Well…I suppose it depends on the bully," Kol said. "A person isn't _born_ a bully. They're created. Usually by pain and fear. What happened to them affects how they treat other people. Once you have an idea why they're suffering, you can use it to get through to them."

"But how are you supposed to know?" Andrea frowned.

"That's the trick," Kol smiled. "The thing is, Andrea…a lot of bullies act from a place of fear. They spread it because it's all they know. But fear is like diseases; you don't cure it by spreading it to more people… Sometimes the simplest way to stop a bully is to befriend them."

Andrea grimaced.

"Are there any other ways?" she asked plaintively, and Kol chuckled.

"A few," he said. "You can break a bully's power by standing up to them - _without_ smacking them. It takes a lot of courage to tell your tormenter that they have no power of you…"

Andrea gasped. "Like Jareth!"

"Pardon?"

"_Labyrinth_!" Andrea beamed. "'_You have no power over me_'. That's how Sarah is freed and rescues Toby from David Bowie."

"I'll take your word for it," Kol smiled warmly. He gave Andrea a sombre look, sighing. "But there are two very important things I want you to remember."

"What's that?"

"The first…is to not let yourself _become_ a bully," Kol said. "It's absolutely right to stand up for yourself, and your friends…but it's a fine line, defending yourself and becoming the bully yourself."

"That's why the Principal was mad."

"She wasn't mad, she was just concerned you behaved out of character. She said you're a vibrant little girl and she doesn't want the other children to start being afraid of you," Kol said kindly, and Andrea fidgeted, lowering her eyes contritely.

"What was the other thing?" she mumbled.

"Pardon?" Those hazel eyes lifted to his face. Kol sighed heavily, that young, innocent face gazing at him.

"You said there were two things?"

"Hm… The second thing is to remember that there will _always_ be someone more dangerous than you," he said sombrely, gazing back at his tiny little niece with her intensely beautiful eyes and innocent sparkly flower barrettes pinning her hair away from her face, her perfect golden braids shining over her shoulders. "And if you're not careful, you'll be the one who ends up hurt."

"But if it means the people you love aren't hurt, isn't that okay?"

Kol gazed at Andrea, his heart breaking a little bit for the conscientious, fierce little girl she was, and the young woman she would become. Just, vibrant and charismatic. It had been a while since he had looked forward to _anything_. Kol realised he was looking forward to watching Andrea grow up.

"D'you fancy sharing a sundae, poppet?" he asked, and Andrea dimpled, nodding.

They were tucking into the sundae when Rebekah finally returned, and the look on her face suggested a sundae was the last thing she would have offered their misbehaving niece.

"Nice chat?" he prompted, with a winning smile, as he and Andrea tangled spoons to dig the last of the brownie bits out of the bottom of the sundae glass.

"Illuminating," Rebekah said, her hair shimmering in a champagne-blonde curtain over her shoulder as she slid into the booth, sighing sharply. "You can expect a phone-call later; a group-chat with Elijah and Niklaus cut the hostilities short but suffice it to say Hayley's not impressed by today's exhibition."

"Well, that's something," Kol murmured to himself. He was impressed that Hayley would not tolerate wickedness from her daughters, whether it was a playground skirmish protecting her friend from bullies, or ripping out the heart of her sister's lover out of spite, _à la_ Niklaus.

"I had a chat with your mum," Rebekah told Andrea, who wiped her mouth neatly on a napkin, turning her hazel eyes on Rebekah. "Hope's feeling better."

"'Kay," Andrea nodded, turning to the colouring-sheet and crayons provided by the waitress, and Kol chuckled to himself, amused. Rebekah gave Kol a bemused look, but Kol shrugged.

"Were you not worried about her, darling?" Rebekah coaxed. Andrea shrugged.

"Grandma Mary says Hope's always been more _delicate _than me," Andrea shrugged. "Because she's quiet and clings to Mommy all the time, but _I'm_ up for adventures. And I get back up without fussin' when I trip over the ball, even if my knees get all cut up. Last time, my tooth cut through my lip, there was so much blood Tommy _puked_. But I didn't! All the grown-ups were flappin' about the blood and I just went right back to runnin' around. I like running. I like _soccer_."

A quip about a puppy guarding her ball was on the tip of Kol's tongue; he didn't think she'd get it, so kept quiet, but his eyes twinkled as he glanced at Rebekah, who frowned softly at their niece.

"She doesn't seem at all perturbed by what's happening to Hope," Rebekah murmured, as they wandered back to the car, Andrea tugging on Kol's hand to make them go faster; he had promised a kick-around with the soccer-ball.

"Why would she be?" Kol asked, shrugging. "For all she knows, Hope has a headache, nothing more. She's more concerned about her friend's diorama being crushed by a bully; _good_!"

"I suppose what I'm getting at is she doesn't seem at all concerned her twin is in danger," Rebekah frowned.

"If she doesn't understand that, it's because we haven't explained it to her well enough," Kol said, frowning at his sister. "And she's _seven_, Bekah. _So_ _what_ if she's not working herself up to hysteria over something she has no power to affect."

"It just… I'd assumed those two little girls would grow up…I don't know…"

"_Twinned_?" Kol said, and Rebekah nodded. "I adore that Andrea's independent. I think a little detachment is healthy… These little girls might set an example for us!"

"I just thought…they'd care more."

"Rebekah…they're seven. We've known them for _days_," Kol said, sighing. "Just because they're not in each other's pockets doesn't mean they don't love each other. But there's no rule saying you can't love your family but dis_like_ them at the same time."

"As you well know," Rebekah said coolly.

"Exactly," Kol smirked. "I _love_ that the girls are so unique. And I respect Hayley for raising them to be their own people, not interchangeable with each other."

"I respect her for that, yes; she's done a tremendous job raising the girls, in spite of everything else going on," Rebekah said. "It's…extraordinary… But I'm just…"

"You created a vision in your head how they'd be," Kol said gently.

"When…it was just the three of us, I'd imagine their futures," Rebekah said sadly, her eyes dimming as she gazed wistfully at Andrea. "I only had eight months, but from the moment they were mine, I was planning our lives together. How I would raise them…"

"And you're disappointed they're not what you envisioned they'd be. How you would raise them."

"I'd hoped that I would raise them to be conscientious and passionate about what consumes their soul," Rebekah said. "Unafraid to fall in love, to have the courage to make lasting friendships and fight for them, to develop their talents as part of who they are, not the sum total… I never wanted them to know our legacy… So, no, I'm not disappointed, because Hayley has raised them as I would have, and…they're _more_ than what I could have imagined already… Perhaps I've read _Little Women_ too many times, or watched too many melodramatic television-programmes focused on sisterhood, but… Maybe I thought they'd be sweet to each other."

"They're neither saccharine nor are they vicious. I think that's a healthy balance, for both of them," Kol said. "And if there wasn't this distance between them, I am sure Hope would be dominated by Andrea's charisma, or…Andrea would try to be _less_ to compensate for Hope's more retiring personality. This way, neither of them is harmed by the other."

"When you put it that way," Rebekah sighed.

"I know you wanted the twins to be best-friends and sisters, the way you never had either," Kol said quietly, glancing a Rebekah. "But isn't it _healthier_ that they _aren't_ utterly dependent on one another? They have a chance for a life outside of this toxic dysfunction."

"It is; and I am glad that they do," Rebekah said, all but pouting as she climbed into the SUV. Kol opened the passenger-door and helped Andrea clamber inside, buckling her into her booster-seat.

"And by the way," Kol added, climbing into the front passenger seat, "Amy March is the most atrocious, vicious bitch of a sister."

"She went after what she wanted," Rebekah said defensively.

"At the expense of her sister," Kol remarked pointedly, smirking. Rebekah sighed, pulling a face.

"Alright. _Fine_. It is fair to point out that she took Jo's place on the trip to Europe that Great Aunt March had always promised Jo; and married Laurie in spite of his history with Jo - also in spite of the fact she had other suitors who would have given her everything Laurie had to offer, and better yet, he wasn't a drunken itinerant like Laurie, squandering his family's money," Rebekah said, rolling his eyes, and Kol smiled.

"Let's not forget the burned manuscript," Kol said, shaking his head. "Be honest, Bekah; if you had a sister, you would have scalped her long before she reached an age to wear her hair up."

"We do have a sister," Rebekah said, glancing at Kol.

"What?"

"Freya."

"Oh. Her," Kol grunted, rolling his eyes. "She's not our _sister_. We share blood, not history. And it takes more than blood to become a family. Especially _this_ family."

"We shouldn't be talking about this here," Rebekah said quietly, as Andrea hummed contentedly in the back of the SUV.

"What about you, poppet?" Kol asked, glancing back at her. "Have you ever read _Little_ _Women_?"

"No; but we've watched the old movie," Andrea smiled warmly.

"And, what did you think?"

"Which sister was your favourite?"

"Mm. I like Jo," Andrea said thoughtfully. "And I like Beth."

"She's shy, like Hope," Rebekah said. "Why don't you spend more time with Hope?"

"_She_ doesn't play the piano," Andrea said, as if this should have been obvious, and Kol snorted. "And Beth even _tries_ to write for their newspaper."

"_The Pickwick Papers_," Kol smiled, remembering.

"Can we watch _Little Women_ later?" Andrea asked brightly.

"If you do some exercise with me and then practice your sums and spelling," Kol said, and Rebekah nodded her agreement. When it came to Andrea, it was amazing how they were always on the same page. And how easily they had fallen into Hayley's routine for the girls. "We can cuddle up with Sweet Pea and watch it after supper."

One had to be the most cold-hearted bastard roaming the Earth not to get choked up at Claire Danes' demise as the gentle Beth March: "_Why does everyone want to go away? I love being home… But I don't like being left behind… Now I am the one going ahead. I am not afraid. I can be brave like you_."

Kol glanced at Rebekah: Tears streamed down her cheeks as she sniffled, her lips trembling into a smile as she glanced down, Andrea cuddled between them, tears slipping silently down her face, her lips quivering, Sweet Pea purring loudly as he draped himself around her shoulders, nuzzling her jaw. Kol reached out, tenderly stroking the tears from her cheeks with his finger.

When the movie ended, Andrea went to have her bath, and Rebekah indulged in washing and braiding her hair before reading her a bedtime story, tucking her in. They cuddled up again, and Kol snapped photographs on his phone, sending them straight to Hayley - one photo of Rebekah smiling contentedly, sat on Andrea's bed while the little girl sat cross-legged in front of her, sucking her thumb and cuddling Sweet Pea while Rebekah neatly braided her long golden hair for bed; and another, of Andrea cuddling up to Rebekah while she stretched out on Andrea's bed, reading from an illustrated storybook. The sound of Andrea's soft giggles didn't translate into the photograph, but it resonated through Kol's mind as he listened to Andrea chatting softly with Rebekah about her ideas for storybook adventures. He wrote down her ideas in a composition notebook, titled _Andrea's Pearls_ \- because some of them were hilarious, and worth remembering and sharing with Hayley, who was missing out on the domestic bliss with one daughter to protect the other.

* * *

In the_ Abattoir_, dusty and draped in dust-sheets, everything locked away, breathless, abandoned and full of ghosts, Hayley drew her phone out of her pocket, the screen illuminating everything around her as it glowed with incoming messages.

It was strange, she thought, that the unlikeliest of the siblings was so in-tuned with how she wanted to raise her daughters. But perhaps the lone-wolf knew better than anyone the dangers of his siblings' co-dependent dysfunction: He had been left out for a thousand years, and Elijah, Klaus and Rebekah had no-one but themselves to blame for his antagonism and spite. But Kol's wisdom was his own, learned through the ages, through his experiences of being on the outside of Always and Forever.

She knew she had been embraced, welcomed and protected more fiercely, more readily, by Elijah and Rebekah than Kol ever had.

Long before she had accepted her pregnancy, her future role as a mother to an extraordinary child - who turned out to be not just one but _two_ miracles - and everything it meant that the father of that child was Klaus Mikaelson…Elijah had fought fiercely for the fluttering heartbeat he could hear like a hummingbird's wings in her womb. He hadn't asked questions, hadn't raged or taunted or controlled, threatened or manipulated her - simply promised his protection and support, asked how she felt about motherhood, and fought for her daughters from the moment he heart their heartbeats. Before their own parents had accepted them; and long before Hayley could bring herself to be excited about their birth.

He had loved them before their own parents had; the girls were alive because Elijah had fought so hard for them, before either of their own parents had.

She wasn't ashamed of that: Because her experiences had not made the situation easy to accept in the slightest.

But she was forever grateful to Elijah that the twins did have one person in the world who had loved them and fought for them, not because they had the potential to be _powerful_, but because they were _family_, because they were pricelessly precious _without_ their extraordinary potential.

They were the first family Hayley had ever truly known. She wasn't a Mikaelson by name or in her heart, but she _fit_ with them more than she had ever felt she belonged anywhere. She had Elijah to thank for that: The moment he heard the girls' heartbeats, he had accepted not just them but _Hayley_ into their family forever.

He had taught her how fiercely a person could love and fight for their family.

And she was banking on that instinct as she examined Kol's photographs of Rebekah and Andrea cuddling together, glancing over her shoulder at Hope, who lay sleeping in Hayley's old bed, in the room she had once shared with Jackson. The door leading to the girls' old nursery ajar, everything as she had left it five years ago. Nothing had changed here.

But she had.

She'd had five years, making every best decision she could for her daughters' happiness and safety. All while hunting down everything she needed to free her family from three different maledictions, knowing Klaus endured untold agony beneath the Crescent City, the home she had finally found, and been forced from, fleeing, with her babies and her ghosts to keep her company.

Hayley chuckled to herself as she read Kol's text, relaying Andrea's bedtime ideas for storybook adventures. Today's adventure featured a skinny young Emperor with twinkly eyes and an aptitude for theatrics, cake-baking and sailing-knots, with an incomparable collection of Old West cowboy novels, sunburn from excessive exploration of coral-reefs, who rode a winged pygmy zebra, had a penchant for knitting, crosswords and tree-climbing, and courted his boyfriend with tea-ceremonies, steamed oysters and dancing.

She didn't know where Andrea dreamed up this stuff; but it never failed to make her smile.

The smile, and the little thrill of amusement that accompanied it, gave her the strength to push off from the bed, leave the door ajar behind her, and make her way to the drawing-room, where Elijah was talking Klaus down from another tantrum. He wasn't doing well, confined to the Abattoir. But at least he was medicated with bourbon, and calmer than he had been all day.

"Well, Kol just checked in; Andrea's in bed," she sighed, letting herself relax as she folded onto the sofa. "And Hope's out like a light."

"To business, then," Klaus said. "The babies are abed, so we can go out to play, and by play I mean slaughter anyone who so much as entertains the thought that they may target my daughter with impunity and believe they can get away with it."

"Ours," Hayley corrected, glancing at Klaus. "She's _our_ daughter, Klaus. And before you head out to slaughter, just remember that what we do _now_ will have consequences for Hope and Andrea later on."

"There shall be no consequences if there are no survivors," Klaus said sanguinely, and Elijah sighed, exchanging a look with Hayley.

"Look… I've had five years to think about this, and before everything fell into place so I could wake you, I…had a long time to consider all my options," Hayley said, glancing from Klaus to Elijah, beseeching his support with a single look. They had always been able to read each other so well. "If it had taken any longer, I had to consider the girls' future, their education, or abandon my hunt for the cures while they grew up."

"You accomplished both with aplomb," Klaus said, flicking his fingers. "Do you wish for a hand-written 'thank you' note? Some sort of a trophy? I know, I shall build you a shrine in the courtyard. All of New Orleans shall plead supplication before your altar."

"Brother," Elijah said sharply, giving Klaus a dangerous look. He turned his gaze to Hayley. "What is this about?"

"Today Andrea was sent home from school; she assaulted a little boy with a textbook," Hayley said, and Klaus scoffed. Hayley gave him a dangerous look. "I enrolled the girls in school because it's crucial for their socialisation to be with other kids. They need to be able to make _friends_. But they're not like other kids; and Drea could've really _hurt_ that kid…"

"What's on your mind, Hayley?" Elijah asked gently, and she sighed, rubbing her face, exhausted.

"Look, this…experience is confirming everything I've been anxious about happening the last five years," she said. "The past is…catching up, and it's put Hope in danger. Our home…this home…it's not the safe place it should have been for the girls. And more than anything, I want to keep Andrea away from everything that's happening here."

"We won't separate the girls."

"They don't _need_ to be together all the time, Klaus," Hayley said, frowning at him. "They need a safe place. I won't expose them to danger unnecessarily…which is why I don't want the girls around us - around F…"

"Say what you mean," Elijah said gently, and Hayley sighed.

"Freya had a werewolf shackled in my barn, torturing her, and Andrea found her. And worse than _that_… Freya seems to believe that _our_ daughters are better off without their innocence than without their family… I know she's your sister, and you respect her skills with magic - but I will not have her near my daughters if that is her attitude," Hayley said sternly, her eyes flashing as she glanced at Klaus. "If my choice were to come down to protecting this family or protecting my daughters and their innocence - I will _not_ apologise for putting them above _everything_."

"Freya said that?" Klaus asked dangerously, and Hayley exchanged a glance with Elijah.

"Yes," Hayley said, and Klaus glowered. He gazed at her so intensely, Hayley felt like she was in danger of drowning in his fury, his unfettered aggression.

"You need never apologise for protecting our daughters, even and especially from my siblings' worst instincts," he said, startling her with the gentleness of his tone. "I will…_speak_ with Freya. And make plain her position in this family, and just how little I value her insight when it comes to her thoughts concerning how we raise our children."

"Klaus… If I hadn't managed to wake you before this year was out… There's a school."

"A _school_?"

"Yes, a private school for children just like them -"

"There are no children like them," Klaus interrupted disdainfully. Hayley exchanged an impatient eye-roll with Elijah, whose lips twitched with amusement.

"Extraordinary kids with otherworldly power, who have no place in the world, who could grow up frightened of their gifts or hunted because of them, never comfortable in who they are because of what they were born…" Hayley raised an eyebrow at Klaus, who frowned thoughtfully at her. "It's in a quiet little town where the locals work with the supernatural community to keep everyone safe. They keep the monsters at bay, and raise the children in their care to be conscientious, confident people who excel at what they put their minds to, nurturing their ambitions, teasing out their best traits and encouraging them, giving them a safe place to grow, where they have support to help them learn from their mistakes."

"Well, it sounds like quite the establishment," Klaus said, his tone rather glib.

"It should be," Hayley said, smirking. "Caroline Salvatore is the Principal."

Klaus' eyes lanced to Hayley: He was temporarily dumbstruck.

"_Caroline_?"

"Yes. They opened the school close to two years ago, and already have forty students, all of whom are residents," Hayley said, glad Klaus hadn't immediately said _No_, which had been her worry.

"_They_?" Elijah frowned gently.

"Caroline Salvatore and Alaric Saltzman," Hayley clarified, and Elijah's eyebrows rose.

"Ah, your old frenemy," Klaus smirked at Elijah.

"Your old meat-suit," Elijah countered, and Klaus grimaced.

"The best thing about Alaric Saltzman was his taste in bourbon," Klaus grumbled.

"Well, they're also parents to twin daughters with an unusual pedigree…" Hayley said, glancing at Klaus, who gave her a disgruntled frown. "Look, we've all fought against and sometimes even _with_ them. We know how ferociously they defend their loved-ones… Imagine how fiercely they'll defend Hope and Andrea were we to entrust the girls to their care."

"You've given this serious consideration," Elijah said softly, gazing at her. He was suited and booted, as per his usual. She recalled when Esther had left him rattled; he seemed…more internal than he ever had before. As if he was used to being left alone to his thoughts.

"I want the girls to grow up knowing they do have a place in this world, that no matter how different they are, they'll always have a place where they belong," Hayley said passionately, gazing back at him. "And it may not even be a place, but it'll be _people_. I want them to grow up and have the opportunity to make _friends_, to know they're not alone."

"They will never be alone," Klaus said dismissively. "They have each other."

"I don't want them growing up to live the lives you've inflicted on your siblings," Hayley said, and Klaus frowned, his lips parting. She held up a hand, stopping him short with a look. "_Don't_. We can have this argument for the next century, but it won't alter the fact you spent a thousand years daggering your siblings for daring to live their lives without you." Klaus scowled, but backed down; Elijah glanced at his brother, gauging his reaction. Hayley continued softly, "The girls don't live in each other's pockets, and I never want them to have to feel like they can't maintain relationships outside of this family, because one day…"

She pressed her lips together, and Elijah nodded softly to himself. "If our last decade together has taught us anything, even our time can run out."

"And should that ever happen, I do _not_… I don't want their relationship to become what yours is," Hayley said, unafraid to tell it straight, after all this time. "Because it's not healthy; and none of you are ever happy. It's toxic and resentful and full of pain and spite…" She rested her gaze on Klaus; he glowered back, hunched on the sofa, but he didn't shout his defence, as he usually would have - before. "I want the girls to have the freedom to be happy, to love who they choose, without being _afraid_ the other will take it from them out of spite, closing themselves off to everything life has to offer." She faltered, her heart stuttering. "Because that…would break my heart."

"So you would send them away from us?" Klaus muttered angrily.

"We did it before and I thought I would break. But I didn't. And I know now it's because I have the strength to make these decisions to keep our daughters safe, and make sure they're _happy_ and have every opportunity to build a fulfilling life for themselves, lives it's our _privilege_ to be part of, not our right," Hayley said fervently. "So, I want the girls to attend the Salvatore School; and while they're tucked away safe, making friends and learning how to be their best selves…"

"We clean up the messes we've made," Elijah said, nodding to himself, and Hayley smiled sadly.

"This was your plan," Klaus said; his scowl had gentled to a thoughtful frown.

"Pardon?"

"You said if you couldn't wake us before this year was out, you were going to send the girls to the school," Klaus remarked.

"The girls are…getting to the age where they need to be at school. I couldn't…take them to school every day while hunting down cures for you; and I'm far from qualified to teach them myself. And they were going to start noticing things. Things about me; things about themselves. Things I don't want to expose them to yet; and some things I have no answers for…" Hayley sighed, pinching her eyes. "So the compromise… Send the girls to board at the Salvatore School. While they're at school, I search; but during vacations, I'm solely devoted to them."

"Was there no alternative?" Klaus frowned.

"Not without abandoning my promise to you all. I had to think about what was best for the girls, and…I didn't want them to reach adulthood before they knew you. I didn't want you all to miss out on them growing up," Hayley said, shrugging. "So…yeah, I gave myself until the end of this year, then I was going to enrol them at the Salvatore School, and while they were away, I could continue my search without having to worry about them."

"Why would you even entertain this school?" Klaus frowned. He sat up straighter, his expression…more entreating than angry. His tone was gentle when he said, "I'm not trying to be aggressive or…or fight you about this, because…it's…sensible… I - I want to know how you could entrust our daughters' lives to strangers."

"Because Caroline Salvatore isn't a stranger to you. You _respect_ Caroline, I know you do. And that's…that's not something I can really say of _anyone_, except…Elijah and Cami," she said, and something flickered in Klaus' eyes. He glanced at his brother, who fiddled with his lapis lazuli ring distractedly. "Caroline…grew up with parents she knew loved her unconditionally; she knew she was _safe_ when she was at home, that she was loved, and that she was _wanted_. And she knows that most of the kids who find their way to her school did not grow up in the same circumstances. She respects that; she does her utmost to make sure every kid in her school knows they're safe and wanted there… Her parents raised her to be compassionate and dedicated; she's stern and caring and honest, and she _cares_ in spite of everything she's been through… And Alaric Saltzman…he's come out the other side of some incredible tragedies, and he keeps trying, he keeps fighting. He's protective, loyal and devoted. He's also a good dose of reality and common sense when everything becomes just a little too much."

Elijah regarded her carefully. "This isn't just a whim…"

"I've been talking to Caroline and Alaric for the last six months about the girls attending the school. Letting them know what they need to about the girls, the better to take care of them, letting me gain insight into how they run the school and care for the children who attend," Hayley admitted. She hadn't known Caroline Forbes well, when she stayed briefly in Mystic Falls, but Hayley knew she was fierce, compassionate and devoted: She'd enjoyed the last six months, building a relationship with her and with Ric Saltzman, potential caregivers and guardians of her daughters. They appreciated the extraordinary trust and privilege Hayley was potentially granting them by placing her daughters in their care. "Without you all, I had to trust my instincts. And…I knew if Klaus respected and trusted Caroline, then…you'd forgive me for sending the girls to her. I couldn't do both. I couldn't raise them _and_ bring you back to life. But I couldn't let them grow up without knowing you; and I desperately wanted you to be able to experience them growing up. So…boarding-school. Vacations would be the most precious times in my life where I got to spend every moment devoted to them."

"What are the other children at this school like?"

"Well, it's not like they advertise that on the website and blog, but… There are witches from different covens all over North America; there are werewolves - triggered and un-triggered. New vampires; and older ones desperately trying to build friendships. And humans who've been affected by the supernatural," Hayley said, and the brothers exchanged raised eyebrows. From what Caroline and Ric had told her about the school, it sounded like the antithesis of the supernatural warzone that was the Crescent City. Inclusivity, family, friendship - rather than strict segregation and cold wars between bouts of unimaginable violence. "The staff are witches, werewolves and vampires, with a few humans. I believe Elena Salvatore works as the school doctor for standard medical issues."

"There are vampires at this school?" Elijah mused.

"The new ones are given a support network, can finish their education…the old ones… Caroline and Alaric are strict that they will never _keep_ a vampire there who doesn't want to be; and there are rules on conduct to protect everyone. Lots of blood-bags," Hayley said, and Klaus sneered. Elijah, at least, had been discreet about his feeding habits while he was around the girls. "There's a deal with the local blood-bank, because the Founders' Council is fully supportive of the school, while it ensures the locals are protected. And any older vampires have to contribute to the actual running of the school; they teach unique lectures, and they're also agreeing to be a buffer between the other kids and anyone who might try to attack the school."

"Have there been attacks?" Elijah frowned.

"No, but I appreciate that precautions have already been taken in the event there is one," Hayley said.

"That's utterly Caroline," Klaus said, with something bordering on reverence. He gazed at Hayley. "But you woke us."

"I did."

"So why bring up the topic?"

"Because the girls' education is crucial to their futures. I want them to have every opportunity open to them," Hayley said. "And…today Andrea _hit_ a kid who was bullying her friend. He had a bloody nose, but if she's not taught how to temper her strength, she could seriously do some damage, and I - I don't want her to have that on her conscience that she's _hurt_ someone. She's a vibrant kid, but if she thought she could really hurt someone… I know my kid; and Andrea would recoil from ever embracing her strength, afraid she'd hurt anyone else. I want her to grow up respectful of her uniqueness, in a safe, nurturing environment where she's not made to feel ashamed of her power, where she doesn't have to hide it - she can learn to grow up comfortable and confident in her own skin, respectful of how unique she is… I want her best instincts nurtured. And neither she nor Hope is going to get that kind of experience at a mainstream school…"

And then, in the greatest shift toward personal growth Hayley - or indeed Elijah - had ever witnessed, Klaus sighed, and raised his eyes to Hayley.

"Then…the decision is made," he said. "If you believe this is best for our daughters' futures…then I'd best write Caroline a _very_ generous cheque."

Hayley blinked; even Elijah raised his eyebrows at his brother, visibly stunned.

Klaus sighed, then gazed at Hayley. "I grew up feeling alone and frightened. I never knew my own nature to embrace it, until those who could have taught me were long forgotten. From our genesis, we have relied on one another… We have shared the very best memories; but also taken out the very worst of our experiences on each other," Klaus said softly. His eyes were beseeching, and so like Hope's, when he said, "I won't have that, for our daughters. I would have them…be _happy_, and be able to make friends - to be able to _trust_ them. To trust their own instincts. I would have them know unfettered _joy_…even if it means not witnessing every moment of it myself."

Hayley nodded slowly, giving him a sad smile; they glanced at Elijah, whose opinion they both respected, even if it would not sway Hayley's decision.

"Exquisite moments only mean something special because they are so rare," Elijah said. "I would rather have a _handful_ of those memories of my nieces, than risk their lives and their futures by smothering them with a thousand years of our fears and hates."

Hayley closed her eyes, relief and appreciation sweeping through her - for the two men in her life who meant the most to her. The father of her children; and the man she loved more than anyone after her daughters.

"Thank you," she said, with feeling. She had dreaded having this conversation, had built herself up to the raging argument she had expected from Klaus, the violent repercussions. This…this was not what she had expected. But the last five years had changed Klaus: Elijah acknowledged his brother was not as he had ever seen him. She cleared her throat, nodding, and glanced at Klaus. "I…think it would be best…if Kol and Rebekah take Andrea to Mystic Falls, rather than risk bringing Andrea into all this mess. As soon as possible, Hope joins her."

"And we go to war," Klaus rumbled softly, and Elijah nodded sombrely.

"And when it's over, we enjoy a family vacation," Hayley said decisively. "Maybe Virginia Beach. Maybe _Disney World_."

"You ask too much," Elijah said curtly, his eyes sparkling. Hayley beamed.

"I'm gonna get you in Mickey Mouse ears, eating a turkey-leg," she laughed richly, for the first time since arriving back in New Orleans. "You're gonna get every signature of every _Disney_ character; we're gonna go on _every ride_."

"You've never been to _Disney World_, have you?" Elijah smirked, seeing right through her.

"No," Hayley admitted, grinning. "And the girls are finally big enough to appreciate it!"

Klaus shuddered. "For my daughters… When you've already survived Hell, how can _Disney World_ compare?"

* * *

**A.N.**: Sorry for the delay in updates, I've been busy with job-applications. On a positive note, I now have a job so I can continue adulting and, you know, keep the roof over my head. It also means I can focus again on my writing! Hopefully, as long as the muses cooperate, I'll be updating!

I was getting antsy about introducing teen!Andrea and decided to cut out some unnecessary scenes I'd had planned. Because I've actively chosen to not let Klaus be the villain in his daughters' lives - because he so easily could have been.


	5. Prologue: Homecoming

**A.N.**: Thank you so much for the reviews!

You may notice that I've renamed the previous chapters. I wanted to distinguish between the twins' time as little kids, what happens in season five of _The Originals_ and the beginning of _Legacies_.

Oh, in order to streamline some things, I will be ignoring some canon plots (Josh's death, which was just rude; and Gia's too, for that matter) and reintroducing abandoned characters (April Young, possibly Meredith Fell). I'm not going to lie, I haven't watched the last few seasons of _The Vampire Diaries_ to know the minutiae, but as Andrea won't need to know it, I don't need to watch it!

I was going to have Davina resurrect, however, I altered the chapters I was going to write (I was going to have Andrea brought to New Orleans by Kol and Rebekah, have Andrea get between Klaus and Kol during their fight and be hurt because of it - reinforcing Kol's lesson about there always being someone stronger, but I thought it was too damaging to what I now want Klaus' relationship with Andrea to be) and actually, for this story and the Kol as I've written him, it wouldn't make sense for him and Davina to be romantically involved, and I'm just going to leave her dead. I'm also thinking long-term, what impact would Davina have on this story, and my answer was, very little. So that made up my mind. And that's why I've kept some characters (Gia) and brought others back (April) because they're going to be used in the story. The same with Rebekah and Marcel's romantic relationship: I'm always undecided whether I like it/think it's healthy or too toxic.

* * *

**The Heir and the Spare**

_Prologue_

_05_

_Homecoming_

* * *

Arse aching from driving so long, he shielded his eyes from the headlights of a lone oncoming vehicle - it was five a.m., with dawn already chasing away the shadows - and stifled a yawn.

Between the four of them - Kol and Rebekah, Hayley and Caroline Salvatore - they had organised Andrea's move from her public elementary school to the Salvatore School, transferring records, getting Andrea packed - negotiating Sweet Pea's attendance, Andrea's only stipulation for the move. She hadn't asked about Hope following her to the school; only if Sweet Pea could come.

One feature of the school was its menagerie of animals, both domestic and farmyard: Sweet Pea was as welcome as Andrea.

Kol supposed that when one hosted vampires and werewolves and adolescent witches, a little housecat posed no real hassle in comparison.

The hardest part of leaving the farmhouse was getting Sweet Pea in the crate: Andrea hadn't given them any lip whatsoever about having to leave her school to go to another, where she would not just learn but _live_ \- away from her mother. Kol worried they hadn't explained it well enough, but Rebekah just thought Andrea needed a little time at her new school to let it truly sink in. It was their job to keep reassuring her that Andrea wasn't being _abandoned_; they were still always going to be a phone-call away, and they would spend holidays together. But during school semesters, she would live away.

Andrea was such an independent little love, and Kol knew he would live and die for her a thousand times if she but asked.

Hayley believed her daughters deserved the best opportunities in life. She _believed_ in the Salvatore School, that it would provide the girls with the best foundation for their futures, no matter what they chose to pursue in their lives, no matter what life threw at them. She never wanted her daughters to feel…the way their relatives had, for a thousand years; as if there was no place for them, as if they would never be understood - or _loved_.

And Nik… The last five years had done what the last thousand could not: Nik had _grown_. He had been forced to relinquish control - over his daughters, over Hayley herself, over his siblings, and he had relinquished it to Hayley. He had trusted Hayley. She had impressed them all, but not nearly as much as she had impressed Nik, who never should have doubted her love for their daughters or that she would fight to give them everything they deserved out of life, as he had made the mistake once before, stripping Hayley of her freedom by binding her to the moon in her lupine form, denying her mother's right to her children.

Hayley had proven that Niklaus' instincts were not infallible; at the same time, that she was powerful beyond measure. Not because of her blood, or her hybrid status, or her family name. Because she was resilient, clever, wily, and ferocious when it came to her family, gentle with her daughters but firm - ensuring she had raised at least one kind little girl with pretty manners and an even more beautiful soul, who adored fun and forged lasting connections handily, engendered loyalty because she valued friendship, had a vibrant imagination full of wit and colour, and a fiercely _just_ streak that needed nurturing but also guiding.

Kol couldn't wait to see the woman Andrea would become, with Hayley for a mother and model, and the school to nurture the best of her talents, opening up untold opportunities for her future.

The Salvatore School had been opened as a private boarding-school nestled safe in the heart of the Virginia countryside, the only one of its kind to exist in the world, welcoming vampires, witches, werewolves and the other creatures of the night. Opened by a vampire mother and a supernatural-hunter father for their twin witch daughters so they could embrace _all_ that they had it in themselves to be. Where they were not only educated but nurtured, and given a solid foundation - a place they could always call _home_, where they knew they would always be welcome, and safe, and could seek advice without judgement, protection without expectation, where they would be raised to embrace and respect their gifts, raised with the knowledge that it was their privilege to use their powers, and their right to say no to those who would be tempted to abuse their gifts.

Kol couldn't help marvel at the very idea of such a place. He remembered little of Caroline Salvatore from his time in Mystic Falls, except that she was the delectable little morsel whom Niklaus had taken a fancy to, pursuing her with an awkward relentlessness that bordered on embarrassing. He remembered shining blonde curls and a defiant, upbeat, charismatic personality: Nik respected Caroline's integrity, her wit and her compassion - her fierce devotion to the people she loved. To Nik, she had embodied goodness and virtue, kindness and righteousness. All the things he desired in his own life, forever out of reach, and so lacking in the people who tended to surround him. Hayley remembered Caroline a little better. She was apparently a proactive, hyper-organised personality, hard-working, dedicated and kind. And because she knew Klaus had respected Caroline, Hayley herself knew Caroline was one in a million, and was worthy of the trust she was placing in Caroline, to raise and educate her daughters while their family slayed monsters of their own making.

He sighed, surprisingly relieved, when a sign over the interstate indicated they were within fifty miles of larger Grove Hill and its smaller, sleepier neighbouring town Mystic Falls. Between them, he and Rebekah had decided to make a thing of driving from New Orleans to Mystic Falls; not just because they had a seven-year-old and a cat with them - it was a _long_ drive - but because they didn't know how long it would be before they could spend this much quality-time with Andrea.

A search on the internet had told Kol that Nashville was hosting one of its annual country music festivals. By happy chance, their cross-country road-trip coincided with the four-day festival of music, street-art and food.

It had been a weekend Kol would never forget in a thousand years; walking around Nashville with Andrea perched on his shoulders, wearing her pink ear-defenders and crooning along to the live music, her face smeared with gravy from eating ribs with indecent enthusiasm, fingers sticky from funnel-cake and candy-apples, her skin glowing with a rich golden tan, sucking her thumb as the evenings drew in, mesmerised by the live performances of the musicians she recognised from the radio.

When Chris Stapleton took the empty stage with his pregnant wife, in a button-embroidered flowing black dress and a diamond-ring that could be seen at the International Space Station, they were close enough to see the whites of his eyes - even under the cowboy-hat that shielded the part of his face not covered with a great beard. The sun was starting to set, casting shadows across everything, making everything the light touched glow with golden-orange light, intense and otherworldly. Then he started playing, and he sang…

Kol was drawn in, completely. There were so few people who were truly, genuinely _talented_. Andrea knew every single word of every single song. And when he started to sing her favourite song, she gazed unblinkingly at the huge man as he strummed his guitar so effortlessly, mesmerised, his enormous voice seemingly lulling the city to silence to just stop, and listen.

Andrea hated jazz: Somewhere, a sliver of the last remnants of Niklaus' soul shrivelled peeled away from the rest and withered, dying.

But she _adored_ country music, and it was apparent in the way she lit up over the course of the weekend, any time they paused by a stage where musicians - some world-famous, like Keith Urban, and Miley Cyrus; and some up-and-comers, like Ashley McBryde and Sam Palladio - did what they loved, and played to the largest audience most of them would ever be lucky enough to perform in front of. Rebekah photographed the entire weekend on her phone, taking videos and sending pictures to Hayley, so she could share them with Klaus and Elijah.

One photograph in particular, Kol adored. Andrea sat on his shoulders, as she had all weekend, wearing a new _Stetson_ cowboy hat, her hair braided, dried popsicle juice on her leg, grass-stains on her knees, a Mexican corn-on-the-cob in one hand and a mint-lemonade in the other, a festival band glowing on her wrists, bracelets Rebekah had bought her glinting gold, ecstatic, grinning from ear to ear - which were both now pierced, thanks to Rebekah. Kol was smiling, his chin now bearded, hair tousled, gently holding Andrea's ankles so she didn't fall off his shoulders. He looked relaxed and content; and he had been. Rebekah had taken the photograph without warning, capturing a candid moment - Kol enjoying time with his niece.

They had started to see the world through Andrea's eyes, her enthusiasm and wonder contagious - her gaze shifted their perspectives. After a thousand years, they could be forgiven for being _bored_, by finding it difficult to be enthusiastic about anything, especially the daily grind…but she was exploring it all for the first time - and they were being swept up in it.

They left Nashville, taking with them their photographs, new memories and a beautiful handmade acoustic guitar, which rested in the backseat in a protective case beside Andrea, who was already eager to learn how to play it.

Kol glanced in the rear-view mirror as the sun rose, washing everything with beautiful pale golden light; Andrea was still fast asleep, her cheeks pink from so much sun, the rest of her richly tanned, her golden hair glinting a shade lighter, the sunlight making her brand-new stud earrings glitter, cuddling her stuffed-animal, draped in her baby-blanket and wearing the adult-size festival t-shirt Kol had bought for himself as a nightdress - they had accidentally left her pyjamas folded under her pillow at the hotel. Her braids were tousled and falling out, and even in her sleep, her tiny fingers were laced through the wire door of Sweet Pea's crate. The cat purred contentedly, occasionally licking her fingertips: They hadn't had any fuss from Sweet Pea the whole trip, leaving him in the hotel-room for hours - much to Andrea's concern. She had worried she was being a neglectful parent. Kol had suggested they get Sweet Pea a harness and leash; sensibly, Rebekah had said that Sweet Pea would despise the heat and the noise. So they had left him in the air-conditioned hotel-room, and they had had their fun, treating Andrea, drenching themselves in memories with her. Every night, Andrea had fallen asleep curled against Kol's chest as he carried her back to the hotel-room, and he and Rebekah had worked together to get her tucked into bed without waking her; Rebekah had braided Andrea's hair every morning, her deft fingers gentle and meticulous, and they had chatted and giggled over meals shared with Andrea.

Hayley had indulged them with _time_ to bond with Andrea.

She hadn't had to, for a lot of reasons. And it was only because it was _best_ for Andrea that they had been granted this time with her - because it was all part of the process, getting Andrea to safety. Hayley wanted them to bond with the nieces they hadn't seen in five years.

Kol…liked Andrea more than he had ever considered he might. Perhaps because he had never entertained the thought that he would be _allowed _near enough to actually have a relationship with either of the girls.

But he was _delighted_ with Andrea. He had enjoyed spending these days with her, more than he had enjoyed anything in recent years. Her bright smile in the mornings, telling them about her vividly odd dreams - Sweet Pea had vanquished a giant marshmallow monster with nothing more than a lance and his pet piranha Loquacious; her enthusiasm and curiosity; her sweet nature and generosity; her giddiness about games and devotion to fair-play as they taught her card-games and backgammon; her unfussy, generous personality, always happy to help - making her bed in the mornings without being asked, always saying _please _and _thank you_, offering to share anything they bought her, whether it was food or a bracelet or a game. He didn't think it had anything to do with her being a _twin_, and being forced to share everything, as much as it was her nature to be generous and think of others.

When they were driving, they sang along to the radio; or Rebekah read _Discworld_ and _Harry_ _Potter_ and Roald Dahl novels for her - doing all the voices - and she grumbled, but worked hard when they gave her some mental maths, keeping her mind working even as they stagnated on the interstate, playing games and sharing candies and working on times tables. Andrea wasn't a child who _needed_ constant entertainment, the way some children were utterly reliant on their caregivers to provide stimulation: But they enjoyed engaging with her, especially as they didn't know when they would next see her - they were, after all, dropping her off at a boarding-school.

And with everything going on in New Orleans, well…

Time would tell.

He nudged Rebekah awake as they entered Mystic Falls town limits.

"Gods, my _neck_," she groaned, gasping sharply as she jerked her head upright, blinking around blearily. She raised her hand to knead her neck, squinting around; reaching for her sunglasses, she shifted in her seat, glanced quickly over her shoulder at still-sleeping Andrea, and relaxed, sighing. "Are we nearly there yet?"

"We're inside the town limits," Kol told her, itching to pull over and stretch his legs. He glanced at the clock in the dashboard, and sighed. "It's too early to head over to the school. Remember anywhere decent for breakfast?"

"Not that I can recall - it was closer to nine years ago that I was last here, you know," Rebekah said thoughtfully. Then she wrinkled her nose; _time_ had passed. Happily, Mystic Falls was the kind of small but slowly-expanding town where most activity was still centred downtown, and certain staple establishments had been family-run for generations. They drove past a new development, a mini-mall and a new elementary-school by a large athletics park named the Tyler Lockwood Athletics Grounds and Community Centre - and past the high-school where Rebekah had made a feeble and short-lived attempt at assimilating to modern adolescent culture by joining the cheerleading squad and attempting to seduce the star quarterback. They didn't bother going to take a look at the old place Nik had secured past the gates of an exclusive community; it had always been _his_ pet project, swiftly abandoned when news of the twins' existence had reached him - or rather, news of an uprising planned against him had titillated him enough to descend upon New Orleans with a fury, abandoning his devotion to maintaining high standards of harassment toward the locals in his pursuit of a cure for vampirism _and_ his pursuit of Caroline Forbes.

Rebekah sat up a little straighter as he drove over a newly-renovated bridge leading downtown, her eyes turning shadowed and shrewd - as close to regretful as Rebekah ever truly got. Wickery Bridge - where she had run Elena Gilbert and Matt Donovan off the road in an attempt to kill Alaric Saltzman, created an Original vampire by Esther, by killing off the doppelgänger to whom Esther had linked his life. Rebekah running her off the road to drown had inadvertently led to Elena Gilbert's temporary vampirism - also killing Alaric Saltzman, who had somehow been resurrected to then father twin witches.

A lot had happened in Mystic Falls, before and since Kol's siblings descended and wreaked as much havoc as the pleased (Kol himself included - that nastiness with Silas was not to be overlooked). And to be honest, Kol neither knew nor cared about most of it.

What mattered was that things had settled down. Mystic Falls was once again a happy, content little town where nothing bad ever happened, governed from the shadows by a Founders' Council of humans in-the-know about their supernatural neighbours, who they worked _with_, rather than hunted, to ensure the safety of everyone within their town limits.

It preserved the safety of those who lived at the Salvatore School as a sanctuary.

And the town itself seemed to have bounced back from whatever it had endured recently; even at six a.m. the downtown area was already busy with pedestrian traffic - the historic town square was now completely pedestrianised, and as they drove around Kol had noticed that the roads had been painted with permanent cycle-lanes. Downtown, vehicles now had to navigate a one-way system. Kol found a place to park, and while Rebekah fed the meter, he opened the passenger door, leaning down to gently shake Andrea awake.

She snorted, jerked, and gave Kol the weirdest look - like she was _affronted _to find herself awake, to find him staring down at her with his eyebrows raised and his lips twitching with amusement. "Bloody bishop. It was the parachute. Broccoli's paralysed!"

"Pity," Kol said, not missing a beat. Andrea coughed, squirmed, and squinted up at Kol.

"What's happened?"

"You've woken up, poppet. Dreamland's a long way offshore, for now," Kol smiled gently. "Come on. Time to feed the beast!"

"Where are we?" Andrea asked, writhing as Kol unfastened the booster-seat seatbelt.

"We are in the delightful little town of Mystic Falls."

"We're here?!" Andrea chirped, her eyes lighting up.

"We're here," Kol smiled, as he tucked Andrea's blanket over Sweet Pea's crate, ensuring the windows remained cracked open as he shut the door behind Andrea, who hopped out of the car as if she hadn't just spent the last eight hours confined in one position. No stiffness, no hint of lingering sleep - just anticipation, a big grin on her face, Kol's festival t-shirt brushing past her knees. She shoved her tousled braids out of her face, grinning, and reached for his hand. She did that a lot now; reached for his hand, tucking her little paw inside his - _trusting_. And she skipped beside him as they wandered around the town square in search of something to eat.

_The Grill_, where more than a few of them had been daggered in their time, had apparently been split into two properties rather than the huge, dimly-lit restaurant/bar where the town's teenagers used to spend most of their time (when not navigating supernatural _fracas_ involving ancient cave systems, cobwebbed tombs or abandoned houses built over sites of mass witch-burnings). _The Grill_ was now split, into a pizza place and a boutique. They wandered past, and found their way to an old diner. Even at seven a.m., it was busy - a good sign.

"So, we'll have breakfast and head over to the school?" Rebekah said, as they waited for a waitress to guide them to a vacated table.

"I sent an email when I stopped for gas," Kol said. "They know to expect us about nine o'clock."

"And what are we supposed to do once we've relinquished Andrea to their care?" Rebekah asked, watching Andrea, who had sought out a pot of crayons and some scrap-paper in the little area set aside for kids to entertain themselves while they waited for a table.

"I imagine our dear brother has some ideas about that already," Kol said, rolling his eyes. Rebekah glanced at him, frowning.

"Have you ever heard of this _Hollow_?" she asked. He raised an eyebrow. "You're a walking encyclopaedia of magic, Kol. And you always took particular interest in beings that went bump in the night - especially when they were more horrific than us. Set on unleashing them on Niklaus."

"Flattered as I am that you're asking _me_ about my knowledge of magic, sadly on this occasion I have to disappoint; I've never heard of it. But that doesn't surprise me; I was always more interested in Far Eastern and African magical cultures than the practices of Native shamans of the American continents."

"Well, I'm sure Vincent Griffith will get to the bottom of it," Rebekah sighed.

"He is relentless," Kol said, almost fondly. "And visionary… A witch like him appears once in a generation."

"What do you think of this _school_?" Rebekah asked, frowning gently, glancing to gaze at Andrea for a moment. "How - how do they even _find_ their students? And the _staff_? Who's going to be teaching Andrea magic and all of that?"

"Happily we have the opportunity to ask," Kol said. "Thankfully it's you and _me_ escorting Andrea, not Freya."

"Why isn't she with us, anyway?"

"All likelihood, she's found a way to track down that werewolf she had imprisoned in the barn and is doing her utmost to create yet another enemy for us to vanquish down the line," Kol said.

"_You_ set the werewolf free, not Freya."

"It was the right thing to do, and you know it," Kol sighed. "We can't keep living our lives the way we have; not if we want _their _lives to be better." He nodded at Andrea, and Rebekah sighed, nodding.

"You really think Freya went after her?"

"She's vicious, unrepentant and driven by fear and paranoia," Kol said, nodding. "That's absolutely what Freya did. She won't be content to let things lie, not if she believes for a heartbeat that Marcel won't tear this world asunder to hunt us down and slaughter the lot of us. _We_ know Marcel won't bother himself to forfeit the city he loves to hunt us down, as long as he's not provoked - and we've too much to risk in provoking him… She's blind to the threat she creates in focusing on forging this weapon to combat Marcel's venom. I always knew she lacked imagination; but having no sense of foresight whatsoever, _zero_ respect for the far-reaching repercussions of her actions… That's worse."

"Still…for the sake of safety, it may be best to keep a vial or two of an anti-venom handy," Rebekah said.

"Safer still not to provoke the monster at all," Kol said. "It's still a rather large world, with places far more entrancing than New Orleans to explore and make our home. We'll have the entire world to share with the girls; let Marcel have the backwater penal colony."

"It hasn't been that in a very long time," Rebekah chuckled softly.

"You know what I mean," Kol sighed. "We'd long outstayed our welcome in that city… The only thing that could tempt Nik back is his pride, that we were bested so thoroughly. But with the girls…"

"He's different this time," Rebekah murmured, gazing at Andrea as she coloured contentedly.

"It's been a couple of weeks since he was freed; give him some time to gain traction, the Nik we all know and loathe will be back, and we'll be yearning for the Chambre de Chasse if it means he's buried beneath the Abattoir once again, out of our hair, and out of our ears, no longer pouring his poison in them," Kol said.

"Gosh, you're grumpy."

"Usually. I'm also a realist. We know he's endured similar torment before, and Nik always bounces back like a racquet-ball," Kol remarked, and Rebekah smirked softly, nodding. "I just worry Freya's going to cause more damage with her tunnel-vision."

"You just don't like Freya."

"No; I don't," Kol said honestly. "I believe she has no concept of consequences or of compassion. At least Niklaus struggles, his desire to be a better man constantly at war with what our survival dictates of him, revelling in it - ashamed after the fact, no matter how well he hides it or enjoys the game."

"He does enjoy it," Rebekah agreed. "But it's different now, with the girls; we have the chance to wipe the slate clean, and be the best we can be - for them. So they don't repeat the lives we've endured."

"Freya's a danger to all that," Kol told her seriously. "In her single-minded pursuit of a weapon against Marcel… How many of the enemies we have faced over the centuries have been of our own making?"

"The majority, I'd say," Rebekah sighed.

"So it stands to reason that if we want our lives to change, so the twins never have to experience what we did…it is _we_ who must change our behaviours," Kol said, and Rebekah nodded. It hadn't just been Elijah and Kol spending time in the Chambre de Chasse bonding; Kol had been privileged to spend the time with Rebekah, too. "Yet Freya does not see her behaviour as a catalyst for tragedy and violence and a risk to our nieces' futures."

"So why didn't you stop her leaving?"

"What, seal her in a casket because I don't agree with what she's doing?" Kol scoffed, shaking his head. "I leave the daggering to Niklaus. Let her make her mistakes; I will not suffer to clean up the messes as we have for Niklaus for a thousand years. My focus is the girls; it's not up to me to open Freya's eyes to her abysmal choices."

"Only to say 'I told you so'," Rebekah smirked.

"My right as youngest-brother," Kol quipped.

"I'm the youngest of us all, though," Rebekah smirked.

"And Niklaus always loved you best; go and wheedle him," Kol said. "Let him know we are concerned that Freya's attitudes and behaviour will negatively impact on his daughters' lives - and he'll shred her to ribbons."

"I hope you guys are hungry!" chirped a waitress, bounding over, a big grin on her face, menus in her arms. She beamed at Andrea, who clutched Kol's leg, yawning widely. "Oh my goodness, I almost fell in there! Are you hungry, sweetie?"

"Yep!" Andrea chirped, rubbing her face.

"Well, follow me and I'll get you set up at a table," said the waitress, leading them through the throng of busy tables, setting them up in a booth. "Can I get you started with any drinks?" They ordered coffees and juice, and Rebekah busied herself with her phone as Andrea cuddled up beside Kol, still yawning.

"Uh oh. We're not going to have to get a cold washcloth, are we?" Kol teased, jostling her playfully. "You've not been pricking your finger on any spinning-wheels lately, have you? I _swear_ we invited the evil enchantress to your christening."

"Well, there was an evil enchantress, but the only baptism occurred when Cami dripped holy water on the girls' heads at St Anne's Church, anointing them," Rebekah smirked. "We figured the girls needed all the help they could get." Rebekah's smile faltered, and she sighed, glancing out of the window as more patrons wandered past to the door.

Kol's new phone started ringing, and he frowned, digging it out of his pocket - wondering if it was the school, or Klaus. He frowned, bemused, to see Freya's name onscreen.

"Take that outside if you're going to argue," Rebekah said, gazing at her menu.

"I'll be back," Kol grumbled. "What on earth can _she_ want? Order me steak and eggs, sister? And French toast. And some fruit."

"I'll remember - you're getting dirty looks, off you go," Rebekah scolded lightly, smiling at Andrea, whose lips were moving as her fingertip traced the printed menu options, quietly reading them aloud.

"Freya, _what_?" he asked belligerently, sighing, as he strode out of the diner, pacing along the windows.

"_Uh…it's not Freya, it's - I'm Keelin, I'm the werewolf you liberated_."

"And yet you're contacting me via my sister's phone…something go a little awry with that escape plan?" Kol asked.

"_I've been running from my problems for way too long. Freya told me what she wanted; I offered an alternative_," Keelin said reasonably. "_I just wanted to say thank you. You didn't have to release me, or give me the money to try and get away. I appreciate that you did. That's why I'm gonna help you and your family, by paying your kindness back_."

"What's she got you doing?" Kol asked.

"_Together we're working on a vaccine against the venom that Marcel produces_," Keelin said. "_Magic and medicine. You won't need to abduct werewolves to create more anti-venom; you'll be immune to the toxins_."

"Smart," Kol said softly. He tilted his head thoughtfully. "Have you got a notepad handy?"

"_Uh…yeah, hold on a second, let me just find a pen_," Keelin said softly, and he could hear her rummaging around.

"Write these down. Freya will need to research these; they're spells and rituals, talismans from other magical cultures she'll need to utilise to successfully complete such a spell," Kol said, and he rattled off a list of resources - and then decided to _text_ them to Keelin, for the sake of ease.

Whether or not Freya would heed his advice remained to be seen. On reflection, Kol knew she was likely to ignore him, too confident and arrogant in her own status and the strength of her magic to listen to a prodigy - he sent the text to Klaus, Elijah and Hayley too, for good measure, so they knew what Freya was up to but also that he had provided resources to help - resources she could ignore _if_ he hadn't informed the others they existed.

Because no-one ever listened to him - except that Hayley had.

And if they could create a vaccine against Marcel's venom, without aggravating Marcel, risking repercussions that could have consequences that reached Andrea and Hope, well, then that was something Hayley would definitely consider.

"This vaccine…is it something you have to be in New Orleans to work on?"

"_We're back in the city, yeah…things are getting weird with your family, I think, from what Freya's alluded - she's a pretty closed book but… But as long as we have access to ingredients and a sterilised environment to work out of, yeah, we can leave the city_," Keelin said, and again Kol couldn't help feel like he was talking to someone reasonable, measured. Clear-headed. _Sensible_. He remembered the way she had reassured _Andrea_ when she had been found strung up, being tortured for her venom.

And she had somehow taken control of the situation, not a victim of Freya's ruthlessness: a working partner, a driving force - an equal, and the one who came up with the creative solutions. After all…Freya lacked imagination. But werewolves…ah, werewolves were known to be wily creatures. How else could they keep themselves out of snares?

"Well, you just keep your head down," Kol advised sombrely. "Anything happens, I don't care what loyalties you may think you owe Freya now that you're working together, get out of the city. Alright, don't let my family's enemies become yours."

"_I appreciate that, thank you, Kol_," said Keelin gently. "_Hopefully it won't come to that. Thank you for the help. Freya will appreciate it_."

"She won't," Kol sighed, when Keelin had hung up. He squinted in the sunshine, and wandered back into the crowded diner, the noise jarring; he slipped into the booth, and Rebekah's eyes were sparkling as she smiled at him. "What?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "Look at all this food! I'm starving. You'd best hope I don't eat all of it, Drea."

"You can try some of my pancakes," Andrea dimpled generously, her eyes vibrant in the sunshine; her baseball-cap rested beside her thigh. Hayley didn't let the girls wear hats at the table, unless they were sat outside, in which case sunglasses and sunscreen were also slathered on. Hayley had told Rebekah and Kol her rules, but Andrea knew her routines, and what was expected of her by grown-ups privileged to care for her.

"They smell good."

"They're chocolate-chip! With _bananas_," Andrea hummed. "And _bacon_. I love bacon! Bacon, bacon, bacon! Mmmm…" She cut some of her pancakes and stabbed them with a fork, humming delightedly as she fed herself, nodding.

"You've eaten so many pancakes this weekend, you're likely to turn into one if you're not careful," Kol observed, and Andrea grinned as she cut up another pancake.

"That was an interesting phone-call," Rebekah said, catching Kol's eye. "Freya found her?"

"And yet Keelin sounded like she had turned things around on her," Kol said, impressed.

"Quite the accomplishment, diverting Freya in her single-mindedness," Rebekah said, sniffing delicately as she sipped her coffee.

"Well, she's reasonable, highly educated, and if she's from a medical background as Hayley discovered, she's used to working under immense pressure," Kol said. "What's one vicious witch when she's dealt with belligerent, drunken patients and narcissistic surgeons?"

"Well, that puts things in perspective," Rebekah mused, and Kol nodded, moving some slivers of his flash-fried steak onto Andrea's plate - she kept eyeing them hungrily, and her eyes lit up, her lips curling into a bashful smile, as she gazed up at him.

"Thank you," she crooned softly.

"So, poppet, are you ready to go to your new school?" Kol asked, and Andrea nodded.

"Do you think Hope will like it?" Rebekah asked.

"She'll cry being away from Mommy," Andrea said, helping herself to more of her bacon, more pancakes.

"Well, that's alright," Rebekah said fairly. "It's quite natural to be frightened when you're away from familiar people."

"I meant when Mommy drops us off at school," Andrea said, rolling her eyes. "And _I_ have to drag her through the gate and stop her crying, and last time I didn't get to play jump-rope with Sally and Peyton. They'd never asked me before." She sighed, and frowned at Rebekah. "Mommy says that I should remember that me and Hope can be friends, not just sisters. But I liked making new friends at school."

"Well, there's nothing saying you can't do both."

"But Hope just starts crying and then it's _all_ about her and I can't play because she'll turn around and tell Mommy and it's not _fair_!" Andrea muttered, frowning, as she carved out more pancakes.

"Well, it sounds like Hope needs to work on being a little more independent," Kol said reasonably. "It'll be good for her to be at this school; she'll have to start relying on herself more."

"What if she doesn't let me make friends because she's always moping?" Andrea asked, her striking hazel eyes wide as she gazed up at Kol. There was a faint frown-line of concern on her little face, her lips pressed together sombrely.

"Darling poppet, it's not a case of anyone _letting_ you do anything," Kol said, and Rebekah raised an eyebrow, watching Andrea closely. "You can make all the friends you want; and it would be a kind gesture if you included Hope."

"And help her make her own friends," Rebekah added, with a gentle smile. Her eyes flicked up to Kol. They had a thousand years of toxic co-dependency, built on foundations of loneliness - of being the only ones of their kind, the only ones who truly knew each other, and accepted all that they were. That was what Hayley didn't want for her daughters: She did not want her daughters living in each other's pockets, vicious toward each other, desperate to part, terrified of being separated, lonely and heartsick when they were, abusive when they were drawn back together out of frustration, loneliness, bitterness and paranoia.

There was nothing saying the twins couldn't appreciate each other as sisters, as friends…but it was important they be able to form connections with people outside of their little world. Andrea, at least, seemed very keen. Without knowing Hope better, Kol couldn't judge, but from what Hayley had shared of her daughters, Hope was the quieter, clingier twin, who got anxious when Hayley left the room, tearful when they were separated, and took everything Andrea did very personally - like her making friends, believing Andrea was abandoning her, or being blatantly unkind, even though Andrea wasn't; she was just exploring, growing up, making friends.

Hayley had been working with Hope, and her old school, to build up Hope's independence - and particularly her _resilience_, but it was a process. Hope wasn't _bold _like Andrea was, throwing herself into new experiences with a grin on her face, whether it was introducing herself to a new person or persisting through a Math lesson she struggled with; Hope overthought everything that could possibly go wrong, and because of it, opportunities were often lost - and that had a knock-on effect on Hope's confidence.

But it shouldn't be Andrea's responsibility to make sure no-one ever hurt Hope's feelings, or was the one who had to bolster her confidence - especially not at the expense of her own life and experiences.

Holding herself back to prevent Hope feeling inferior and threatened… That was a _classic_ Elijah/Klaus dynamic.

The girls had the chance to be different - to be _better_.

They already knew that _Klaus_ was better because of his daughters: He had chosen to _support_ Hayley, rather than fight against her, listening to her experiences and trusting in how intimately she knew her daughters to make the right call for their futures based on their needs and personalities, which were vastly different - and could be complementary, as long as the right circumstances nurtured them, and their bond.

"Ready?" Kol asked, as he buckled Andrea into the booster-seat, and she grinned, nodding. She cooed to a grumpy Sweet Pea as Kol shut the door, climbing into the driver's seat. "Ready, Bekah?"

Because they would have to say goodbye to Andrea, too.

And Kol had become rather attached to little Dre. His darling poppet with her cuddles and gap-teeth and messy braids and absurdly funny imagination, her cheerfulness and generosity.

He was finding it harder than he would have expected, the prospect of just delivering her to the school and walking away. Now that he'd had the opportunity to bond, he was loathe to relinquish her. He already anticipated when they could next spend time with her.

"What do you reckon the chances of us getting away with just grabbing Dre and heading off into the unknown are?" Rebekah asked, and Kol grinned.

"The world is our oyster," Kol chuckled. "I _think_ we'd have a pack of rabid hybrids out for our blood."

"Is it absurd that I'm regretting having to leave her?" Rebekah asked quietly, as Kol adjusted the radio.

"This is only the first time I've had to relinquish her," Kol said compassionately, glancing at his sister, who gazed miserably out of the window before adjusting her sunglasses over her face, shielding her eyes - and most of her expression - from view. "I can't imagine how it feels to have her in your grasp, only to have to give her up, _again_."

"I was her mother for eight glorious months," Rebekah murmured heartbrokenly. "Eight months, and they were the best I'd experienced in over a _thousand_ years. I thought we'd have… I thought I'd have more time with them. But I'm not their mother…"

"It does make me wonder, what would have happened had you never brought them back to New Orleans when the starlings found you," Kol sighed, and Rebekah nodded.

"It was the hardest decision I ever made," Rebekah admitted. "Until the very last second, I still considered running farther, hiding better… I knew I'd have to give them up."

Kol sighed. Rebekah had had the moral strength to give up the only thing she had ever wanted, knowing how much pain it would cause her, even in spite of her apprehensions about the kind of life she was relinquishing the girls to by giving them back to Klaus and Hayley, in spite of the life she knew she could give them.

He wondered if the Hollow would have ever latched onto Hope the way it had. Whether the girls could have grown up in peace and contentment, never knowing they were special for any other reason than because they were who they are - not because of _what_ they were, or the family into which they had been born.

He wondered if any of it would have happened - defeating Dahlia; that hateful, self-fulfilling prophecy that had culminated in Marcel's evolution; Cami and Davina's deaths… It all came down to their family, and their _choices_…

Kol glanced in the rear-view mirror at Andrea as he drove through town. The twins had the opportunity to make better _choices_. Nothing else really mattered except for that. Not what _they _wanted; what was best for them. That was what it meant to be a parent, and Rebekah had mastered parenthood in those eight months she had been privileged to be the guardian of Hope and Andrea.

Still, they were all haunted by the ghosts of what _might_ have been. And unlike Kol, Rebekah had had no reprieve from Niklaus, no way out of the coffin he had confined her to time and again - it was a horrible truth, but Kol had never trusted Rebekah to keep his secret were he to ever share it, in the hopes of freeing her to live a life of her own choosing. Because time and again, she had proven she feared and dreaded Niklaus' anger, desired his approval, more than she dared risk everything for her freedom.

"Well, here we are!" Kol said brightly, peering through the windscreen as he cautiously drove the car around the circular driveway, the circular lawn emerald-green and, he noticed with a flicker of delight, planted with beds groaning with herbs, the odd glittery hula-hoop and toy tractor and tricycle abandoned among them. The flowerbeds beneath the diamond-paned windows were groaning with flowers and herbs, weatherworn statues poking out amid the _potentilla_, snapdragons, dahlias, foxgloves and wild strawberries, _penstemons_, Echinacea and dainty salvia, the hum of bees greeting him as he parked under the archway, bumblebees swarming the buddleias, crepe myrtles and the lavenders and flowering marjoram in huge planters either side of the front-door. He let Andrea out of the booster-seat. "What do you think, poppet? Will it do?"

"It's like _The Secret Garden_!" Andrea whispered delightedly, her eyes sparkling.

"I'd forgotten how grand this house actually is," Rebekah remarked, shutting her door and gazing at the redbrick Tudor-revival mansion. It looked…grounded, organic - eternal. As if it had been here for all time, not just the last century. But it was only that old; yet it felt like part of its surroundings, the endless woodlands, the picturesque creeks, the eerily beautiful waterfalls. "One rather expects Heathcliff to gaze out of the window searching for his Cathy…or to find Mrs Rochester creeping about in candlelight to tear bridal veils in two."

"You've always been a hopeless romantic," Kol sighed, shaking his head, as Andrea approached one of the groaning planters to peer at the purple-flowering marjoram alive with bees. He raised his hand to give a couple of good strong knocks on the freshly repainted door - halfway between emerald and British racing green - and jabbed his thumb against the doorbell for good measure. Andrea had wandered off, her nose stuck in the flowerbeds, examining the flowers, exploring; she came back eager to show Rebekah a little frog gulping wetly in the damp shade beneath a large dahlia with striking brown leaves and sunny yellow flowers.

The door opened, and Kol groaned.

"_Kol_?"

Kol groaned, then hoisted a grin in place. "Jeremy…buddy… Like the beard."

"Thanks. Yours is looking good, too," Jeremy said. With a surprised little laugh, he set aside their brief era of enmity, startling Kol with how _easy_ it was. Kol had tried to remove limbs to prevent Jeremy and his idiot friends seeking and waking Silas; Jeremy had murdered Kol with a white oak steak, rendering him not just _mostly_ but _totally_ dead - condemning his entire sire-line along with him. Kol grinned, reaching up to stroke his beard, which he had been growing out since his liberation from Freya's bland _Chambre_.

He had grown out his beard, and yet Kol would never physically age. The beard made him look older, more mature, even more handsome - but it looked differently on him than on Jeremy Gilbert, who had been an awkward adolescent when Kol had first met and befriended him. He was a man now, with a hint of crow's feet crinkles at the corners of his dark eyes, strong jaw swathed in a neatly-groomed beard, and he had grown into his body, no longer gangly and uncertain in his own skin but confident and strong, his muscled arms displayed by the short sleeves of his dark-green t-shirt embroidered with a small black-and-silver insignia, a rearing stallion with an elaborate _S_ superimposed over it.

"We weren't expecting to you 'til at least this afternoon," Jeremy told him, frowning softly.

"Drove all night," Kol shrugged. "If it's a bad time…"

"No, it's not; the kids are just finishing up breakfast," Jeremy said. "So…where's your niece?"

"Oh, she's about," Kol said, stepping back to peer to the left, where Rebekah's hair shimmered in the sunlight as she dutifully peered into the flowerbeds, seeking critters. "There was some mighty bold talk of catching frogs." Jeremy stepped over the threshold, joining Kol to stand and stare at Rebekah and Andrea, both now standing _in_ the flowerbed, with Rebekah gazing solemnly at the little frog now gently ensconced in Andrea's hands as he chirped. Quickly, Kol snapped a few photographs on his phone.

"Andrea? Come and meet an old friend of ours," Kol called, and Andrea glanced up. She nodded, and set the frog down in a shadowy part of the flowerbed, climbing out. Rebekah picked her way through the dahlias and snapdragons, greeting Jeremy's raised eyebrows with a smile.

"Jeremy Gilbert? Wonders never cease. I thought you'd died," she remarked.

"Yeah, a few times. I'd heard the same about you two," Jeremy said, his tone playful as he turned his gaze on Andrea.

"Well, best not to listen to rumours. Load of tosh," Kol sniffed. "Besides, Death doesn't seem to like us; keeps rejecting us. We woo, we cajole; nothing ever works."

"Yeah, well, Death probably knows how exhausting you are," Jeremy said, but it was playful, without any real heat. "Now, who is this?"

"Hi," Andrea chirped, grinning from ear to ear, as Jeremy took a knee in front of her. "I'm Andrea Elyse Marshall."

"My name is Jeremy Gilbert," he said, and it was interesting that, as an adult staff-member of the school, he gave his first name. He offered his hand, and Andrea glanced at it before giving him a shy, almost bashful smile, reaching out her little paw. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Andrea. Welcome to your school."

"Is it my school?"

"It is now," Jeremy smiled. Warmth radiated from him; Jeremy remembered what a good friend Jeremy had been to him, even if he hadn't realised Kol had been assigned to befriend him by Niklaus as leverage over the doppelgänger. But Kol supposed that was the difference; Jeremy Gilbert was a good-natured person. He had been raised well by people who only wanted the best for him, raised to have dignity and compassion for himself but also for others. "D'you want to explore?"

"_Yes_!" Andrea grinned.

"Alright… This way," Jeremy smiled, and crossed the threshold. Kol and Rebekah exchanged a glance as Andrea rushed after Jeremy; they met no resistance at the threshold.

The great room of the Boarding House had changed, only a little. There were more little settees, more footstools and floor-pillows in front of the fire; and to the right, past antique folding screens, tables rested under the tall, glass-stained windows. Children - some little, some adolescent - were tidying away plates and cutlery, baskets of toast and muffins, containers full of cereal and jugs of juice. Only bowls of fruit were left out, a plump woman with blonde hair and a sunny, approachable expression refilling them with fresh nectarines, plums and peaches, as a teenager swept the floor under the tables with a broom, tidying dropped food into a dustpan.

"Alright, my darlings, just pop your things into the dishwasher, and Jerusalem is going to supervise your Maths," she said, in a cheerful English accent. "Later on we're going to go outside and do some exercises and get all sweaty - well, you are - and then we're going to help Martha in the garden."

Another teenager supervised a line of little children each carrying their plates, cups and cutlery through an archway, as the plump Englishwoman turned and spotted them. Her face lit up at the sight of Andrea.

"Oh, you must be Andrea! Hello, my duck! We've been _waiting_ for you to arrive!" she said, boundless enthusiasm rolling from her in waves, and the immediate sensation of maternal love, nurturing and safety almost cocooned _Kol_, it was so strong. Andrea smiled, as the woman bent and beamed at her, offering a bowl of fruit. "Have a peach, my darling. And a muffin."

"I've just had breakfast, thank you," Andrea said politely. She held Kol's hand, but leaned away from him, smiling as if entranced.

"Well, take one for later," the woman winked, offering a bowl of fruit and a basket of muffins. "Just in case you get peckish." Andrea did as instructed, and the woman set the bowls down, dusting her hands on a pinafore apron, smiling at Kol and then Rebekah. She offered her hand, shaking both of theirs. "Good morning. I'm Margaret Poldark - Molly, if you like. Welcome to the Salvatore School! I think Caroline and Ric - Mrs Salvatore and Principal Saltzman - are just finishing up some early-morning chores."

"Yes, Jeremy said you weren't expecting us until later," Kol said.

"Well, it's _lovely_ that you're here already," Molly said, twinkling at Andrea.

"Molly is our fantastic cook," Jeremy said warmly. "And one of our House Mothers. She's going to help look after you, Andrea; she sleeps in the room next to the one you'll share with some of the other kids."

Molly smiled, winking at Andrea. She reached out a hand, letting Andrea take it, and smiled, bent to Andrea's level, so they were eye-to-eye. "While you're here, if you ever feel scared, or sad - especially when you're _happy_ \- you can always come to me, and we'll have a chat, alright?"

"Alright," Andrea nodded.

"Now, I asked one of the older children if they could give you a tour of the school, while your auntie and uncle have a chat with our head teachers. How about I introduce you, and you can go and explore?" Molly asked coaxingly, beaming, and Andrea nodded. "Adam? Where've you got to? Ah, there you are - you're growing so quickly I can barely recognise you - come and meet Andrea."

A young boy bounded over, about ten years old, tall for his age, all knobbly knees and huge brown eyes with a smile that radiated from beneath his skin. He beamed at Andrea, who gave him a look more flirtatious than shy, and Kol exchanged a glance with Rebekah as the two children introduced themselves.

"You have a nice smile," Andrea observed. The boy's grin widened.

"I like your braids," he replied, and Andrea dimpled, reaching up to flick her braids over her shoulders. Kol snickered quietly, and Molly dimpled indulgently at the children, as Adam offered Andrea his hand.

She smiled, practically bouncing as he led her away to introduce Andrea to some of the other children who had reappeared from the kitchen, happily gathering their workbooks and pencil-cases while a lanky teenage boy with blonde dreads set out unifix cubes and token counters for the little ones, and the older ones shared out calculators and protractors.

"Part of what we do here is nurture independence, and give the older kids a chance to consolidate their own knowledge by helping tutor the younger kids," Jeremy explained, as the children got to work without any adult present. Molly offered the basket of muffins to Kol, and Rebekah, who took one, raising her eyebrows in surprise at how delicious the blueberry muffins were - Molly set the bowl of fruit back on the table, beside jugs of water that a teenage girl set down with the help of a little Asian girl. Jeremy noticed Kol's attention on the fruit. "We always leave fresh fruit out - seasonal, from local producers; we champion low food-mileage and organic crops here, and we try and support small businesses as much as possible. Part of our curriculum covers _permaculture_, which we'll get to during your tour; it's important the kids know where their food comes from. Especially as it's part of the way we do things here that the kids help in the kitchen preparing meals. We teach practical skills alongside things like music and art and literature and languages. For a few of these kids, this is their permanent home, it's our responsibility to give them that firm foundation before they set off into adulthood."

"Practical skills, such as?" Rebekah asked.

"Balancing their accounts, for one, and budgeting. Tied in with that is food and nutrition; the children learn how to cook, and what healthy meals are," Molly said, smiling. "And because so many of our students are from witch lineage, we have a focus on permaculture - we've got bees, ducks, chickens and goats. The older ones learn responsibility through chores, and the little ones learn compassion for the animals but also appreciate where food comes from. Our science lessons relating to biology are all about exploring the natural world, so we incorporate a lot of practical hands-on experiences, teaching the children about plants and ecosystems through permaculture. And they lead our learning through questions, which lead to experiments and research. Some of the older students explore things like design and engineering through creating irrigation systems, that sort of thing, not just mechanics in the garage. And they've been working on _architecture_, designing a greenhouse for one of the walled-gardens, in keeping with the redbrick."

"And how has that worked out?" Kol asked.

"Well…it's nothing that can't be mended," Molly smiled brightly, as Jeremy chuckled.

"Important thing is, they worked hard on it, and they've learned through the entire process," he said, and Molly chuckled.

"And, at the very least, we got a hencoop out of it," she smiled brightly.

"Well, Dre will be delighted you keep chickens; we brought Sweet Pea the cat but Chanticleer and Poppy, Spicer, Agatha Christie and Queen Charlotte had to stay behind," Kol said, and Rebekah smiled. "One of Drea's chores was egg-hunting every morning before school. Picking weeds from the flowerbeds after school before snacks."

"Oh, well, she'll be able to keep some of that routine here," Molly smile. "That's good, it'll help Andrea settle in."

"I…don't think that'll be much of an issue," Kol chuckled, gazing up at the gallery, where Andrea was giggling softly, peering over the banister beside Adam.

"In our experience, even the boldest child gets homesick after a week or two," Molly said, smiling fondly. "They get homesick, then they get overwrought and upset. Luckily we're well-practised in spotting the signs so we can talk the dears down before they have an epic meltdown."

"Well, luckily we haven't had one of those yet," Rebekah said. "Everything going on…"

"Caroline and Ric told us what's happening in New Orleans," Jeremy said sombrely, glancing from Kol to Rebekah. "As much as they know."

"It's a rather fraught situation."

"Well, at least Andrea's safe here with us," Molly smiled compassionately, and Jeremy nodded.

"That's what this place is. It's a sanctuary," Jeremy said solemnly. "A safe place for children like Andrea, when they can't find safety anywhere else."

The sound of giggling echoed through the Great Room, and two tiny girls dashed into view, younger than Andrea - smaller, still babyish in their looks. One had a lovely doll-like oval face framed by lots of shimmering blonde hair; the other was paler, with dark-hair and vivid sapphire-blue eyes the size of dinner-plates. There was something in their looks that was similar; Kol could tell they were sisters.

"Lizzie, slow down!" Molly chided gently, as the blonde girl ran to briefly hug Jeremy's leg before darting off to join the other children, while the dark-haired one careened toward the fruit-bowl. "The plums are ripe, Josie; your favourite." The little girl with the eyes like enormous sapphires smiled, shoving her dark hair out of her face with a dimpled hand, and took a plum, then skittered off to join the other children, munching away; she cuddled close to the older boy with blonde dreads, and idly turned the pages of a Geometry textbook, tongue between her teeth in concentration.

"The children are encouraged to help themselves to fruit throughout the day; there's always fresh water," Molly told them. "Juice is for breakfast; we only give sodas out during special occasions, such as birthdays, where the children get to choose their favourite meal, and the school provides a gift from all of the kids, and I supervise them making a cake - the child's favourite."

"That sounds lovely," Rebekah said thoughtfully.

"Well, for a handful of our children, this is their permanent home. We're their family," Molly said, with a slightly pained smile.

"Molly travelled halfway across the world to be House Mother to our kids," said a familiar voice, and Rebekah turned sharply, a tiny smile on her lips. "She read her tarot one morning and went to pack her suitcase. She appeared on our doorstep a day later, and now we couldn't imagine this school without her."

"Caroline Forbes," Rebekah said, and there was something like fondness in her tone as a vivaciously pretty girl with glorious blonde curls strode confidently toward them.

"Caroline _Salvatore_, thank you," she said gently, her eyes shadowing briefly despite her gentle smile.

"I heard," Rebekah said softly, and her voice turned throaty as she gazed around the Great Room, full of the sound of children chatting, _learning_. "He'd have _adored_ this."

"I know," Caroline said, her expression agonised; she and Rebekah _hugged_. "You know something? I think I missed you."

Rebekah gave a gusty sigh, "Do you know something? I think I missed you, too."

Kol glanced at Jeremy, his lips twitching toward a smirk. "Embrace me, Jeremy."

* * *

**A.N.**: Because, _personal growth_. And I did love the dynamic between Rebekah and Caroline. Face-claim for Molly is Lucy Davis (inspired by Aunt Hilda, of course! Her name's a nod to Mrs Weasley). And little Adam will grow up to look like Adam DiMarco of _The Order_ fame, and we'll see a bit more of him later on in the story.


End file.
